Forgotten Relations
by Chris Fitzsimmons
Summary: A stranger claims to be a long lost relative of the Hardys. Who is she? As the Hardys race to find the truth, they fight Assassins at every turn! This is the first in a series. Although this story only contains the Hardys, Nancy Drew appears later.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This is the first in my series that I call "The Casefiles Continued." Some of the things in this series will make a little more sense if you have read at least the first few casefiles. The sequel to this story is entitled **_**Forgotten Enemies**_**. Do not worry, I have the first three books written and I am about halfway through the fourth. **

**I am only posting a few chapters at a time because I do not have a lot of time and I have to give you some incentive to leave reviews.**

**So please, tell me what you think of my stories!**

"What do you want on your pizza?" nineteen year old Joe Hardy called through the apartment that he shared with his older brother, Frank, while they were at college in New York City.

"Pepperoni is fine with me!" twenty year old Frank called back.

Joe uncovered the mouthpiece of the phone and told the clerk from the restaurant his order. After he wrote down the total and the time the pizza would arrive, he hung up the phone. He was just turning to go back into the living room when a knock sounded on the front door. "Were you expecting anyone?" he called to Frank.

"No," was Frank's reply.

Puzzled, Joe opened the door to reveal a young woman standing there. She was a few inches shorter than Joe's six-foot frame and her beautiful face was framed by long dark hair. Joe guessed her age to be around twenty-five. What struck Joe most though was the frightened look in the woman's eyes.

It took Joe less than a second to complete his observations and then the woman spoke urgently. "Hurry up and let me in before they see me," she pleaded.

"O…of course," Joe stammered as he stepped out of the way. The woman darted in through the open doorway and quickly shut the door behind her. She leaned against the closed door and breathed a sigh of relief.

"Thanks," she said with a shaky grin.

"Do I know you?" Joe asked as he studied her face intently. "You look familiar."

"I guess you could say that," she answered, "although we have never met."

More confused than ever, Joe was about to reply when Frank stepped into the hall. "Who was at the door…?" Frank asked, the end of his question fading off as he caught sight of the woman standing there. "Who's your friend?" he asked instead.

"I don't know," Joe finally manages. "We just met."

"Oh," Frank said. He held out his hand for their visitor to shake and said, "I'm Frank Hardy."

"Hi, Frank," the woman replied. "My name is Brandi."

"I'm Joe," Joe said, also offering his hand. As she shook it, he asked, "Do you have a last name, Brandi?"

"Yes, I do," she replied hesitantly. "It's…Hardy."

Frank looked questioningly at Joe and Joe looked back at Frank and shrugged. They both turned to look back at Brandi and waited for her to continue.

"This might take a while," she answered their looks. "Can we sit down somewhere?"

"Oh, sure," Frank said as he led the way into the living room. Joe promptly dropped into the recliner as Frank and Brandi seated themselves on the couch.

"I don't know where to start," Brandi admitted.

"I know this sounds cliché," Frank grinned, "but start at the beginning."

"Ok," she replied. "Here goes." She settled back on the couch and started her story. "Ever since I could remember, I have lived in a strange place," she told them. "At first it didn't seem strange, but as I got older, I started to notice how different my life was from the other kids at school. I lived with a man who I thought was my grandfather in a large house. The house was surrounded by a wall with barbed wire on the top. The house and grounds were patrolled by many men with automatic weapons. When I was young, I asked my 'grandfather' about the men, and he told me that they were there for out protection and to keep bad men out. It wasn't until I was about fifteen years old that I realized that the guards were not to keep people out but to keep people in. I went to a private school, but I was never allowed t go without a guard. When I got to college, it was the same. I had to do all of my shopping online, because I was never allowed to go to the mall like the other kids. I grew up believing my name was Brandi Kerry. How mistaken I was!" Brandi stopped to catch her breath.

"What changed your mind?" Frank asked her.

"About two months ago, the man that I knew as my grandfather became very sick. On his deathbed, with his last breath, he said, 'escape' and handed me a sealed envelope. When I returned to my room that night, I opened the envelope." She paused for breath again.

Joe impatiently asked, "What was in it?"

Brandi's answer shocked them both. "Inside was a newspaper clipping telling of a young girl that had been kidnapped from her father's house. Her father was a New York City Police Detective. There was also a paper with your names and address on it and your parents' names and address on it. The last item was the thing that shocked me most."

As she paused again, Joe almost yelled in his impatience, "What was it?"

Her startling reply came. "It was a birth certificate for Brandi Kerry Hardy and the parents were listed as Fenton and Laura Hardy!"


	2. Chapter 2

The Hardy brothers sat in stunned silence at Brandi's revelation. As Frank regained his tongue and opened his mouth to speak, there was another knock at the door.

Brandi's look of fear suddenly returned. "Don't answer it!" she gasped. "It's them!"

Joe and Frank looked at each other. Then as one they stood up and moved quietly into the hall. Frank silently slid open the drawer of the hall table and picked up the handgun that was laying there. He clicked off the safety and nodded to Joe who was already at the front door. Joe nodded back and flung open the door.

Standing at the door with his fist raised to knock again, was the pizza delivery boy. He looked surprised for a moment and then regained his composure and said to Joe, "Hi. I have your delivery here." The deliverer looked at Frank who now had the gun hidden behind his back, nodded, and said, "Good evening." Frank nodded back as Joe paid the boy and accepted the pizza.

As Joe closed the door, he turned to Frank and asked with an impish grin on his face, "Pizza anyone?"

Frank relaxed and returned the gun to the drawer. "Good thing I'm not the 'shoot first, ask questions later' type, huh?" he said with an answering grin.

"True," Joe replied as he carried the pizza into the living room. The relief in Brandi's eyes was evident as she saw the pizza. Frank walked to the kitchen and returned with some paper plates, napkins, and cans of soda.

As Frank placed slices of pizza on plates and handed them out, he said to Brandi, "Go ahead and finish your story. What happened after you saw the contents of the envelope?"

Brandi bit into the piece of pizza that Frank gave her and said, "I realized that something was terribly wrong. I went to my computer and started searching online for more information about the kidnapping. I had only been at it for a few minutes when the door to my room opened and several guards came in and without a word unhooked my computer and took it. As they left, they locked the door to my room from the outside."

"They were obviously monitoring your online activity," Frank stated.

"Apparently," Brandi agreed. She continued, "At that point my suspicions were confirmed. I knew I had to get away. I was in luck, the boy that brought me my dinner was one of the kitchen staff that I had befriended. He agreed to help me escape. The next morning when he brought me my breakfast, he also gave the guard a cup of coffee that contained a powerful sedative. Once the guard was unconscious, he gave me an extra kitchen uniform and helped me sneak down to the kitchen. I was able to escape the grounds by hiding in the back of a delivery truck from the bakery."

"I find this all hard to believe," Frank said. "Mom and Dad never said anything about us having a sister."

As Brandi opened her mouth to reply, another knock sounded at the door and the look of fear instantly returned to her face.

"It's like Grand Central Station around here," Joe muttered to Frank as they once again crept into the hall.

Frank nodded in agreement as he once again removed the handgun from its drawer. He nodded to Joe and once again Joe threw the door open. Standing outside, looking flustered, was the Hardys' friend, Chet Morton. Joe grabbed his arm and pulled him into the apartment, quickly shutting the door behind him.

Chet saw the gun in Frank's hand and his eyes widened. "What's going on?" he demanded.

"That's a good question," Joe replied ruefully as he ran his fingers through his blonde hair. "We're trying to figure that out ourselves."

As the brothers led the way back into the living room, they quickly summarized what Brandi had told them so far. Chet's astonishment grew at each part of the story. As they settled back in the living room, he said, "This is amazing! I didn't know that you guys had a sister!"

"Neither did we," Joe said wryly as he introduced Chet to Brandi.

"Nice to meet you," Chet said. "I can see the family resemblance."

Joe snapped his fingers. "That's it!" he exclaimed. "I knew she looked familiar! She looks like an older, female version of you, Frank!"

"She does," Chet agreed.

Frank studied Brandi's features and had to agree. "I'm still skeptical though," he said. "Do you have the contents of the envelope with you?"

"Of course," Brandi answered. She pulled an envelope out of her purse and handed it to Frank. Frank studied the birth certificate and the paper with the names and addresses on it and then turned his attention to the newspaper article.

"Read it out loud," Chet suggested.

Frank agreed. "It's not very long," he said. "Here goes.

'The two year old daughter of New York City Police Detective Fenton Hardy disappeared yesterday. The disappearance has the police baffled. Brandi Hardy was playing in the living room while her mother, Laura Hardy, was working in the kitchen. When Mrs. Hardy went to check on Brandi, she discovered that the child was gone. A city-wide manhunt has ensued for the child. At this time, no ransom demand has been made. If anyone has seen the child or has any information regarding her whereabouts, they are requested to notify the police immediately.'"

Frank put the article back into the envelope. "That's all it says," he stated.

"Wow," Chet said.

"Yeah," Joe agreed.

"I'm calling Dad," Frank said as he reached for the phone. He punched in the numbers for Fenton Hardy's cell phone.

Mr. Hardy answered on the second ring. "What's going on?" Fenton asked after the two had greeted each other.

"It's complicated," Frank replied. "I think you and Mom need to get here as soon as possible."

"I'm pretty busy on this case…" Mr. Hardy, the world-famous private investigator, began.

"Dad," Frank interrupted, "this is more important."

Something in Frank's voice stopped Mr. Hardy's protests. "Ok," he agreed. "I'll have Jack fly us out immediately." Jack Wayne was Fenton Hardy's private pilot when his cases required one.

Frank ended the call and turned his attention back to the others, who were watching him intently. "They're on their way," he told them. "Now," he addressed Brandi. "Who is the 'them' that you're so scared of?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "Since my escape, I've been on my way here. A few weeks ago, an envelope was left for me at the hotel where I was staying."

"What was in it?" Chet asked eagerly.

"Pictures," she answered. "They were pictures of Felipe, the kitchen helper that helped me escape. Or rather, they were pictures of his body. He was dead. In addition, it was obvious that they had done terrible things to him before he died." She shuddered at the memory. "Since I got the envelope, I've had the feeling that I'm being followed. I've caught glimpses of people that look a lot like the guards from the house. A few nights ago another envelope was delivered to my hotel. Once again it was full of pictures, only this time they were pictures of me. They had been taken over the past few weeks. It was like they were saying, 'You can't escape; we know where you are.' The next night I was returning to my room after eating dinner and I noticed the door was slightly ajar. I was going to go in when I heard a noise inside the dark room. I turned around and ran. I heard someone chasing me but I managed to elude him." She looked scared just repeating the story.

"Why did you come here instead of our parents' house?" Joe challenged.

"I figured that it would be harder for my pursuers to find me in New York City than in a small town like Bayport."

Joe was forced to agree with Brandi's logic.

"So what are you going to do now?" Chet wanted to know.

"Well," Frank replied, "we're gonna wait for Mom and Dad to get here and then we'll go from there."

At that moment there was yet another knock on the apartment door. Frank and Joe looked at each other, and the look in their eyes clearly said, "What now?" Frank pulled the gun out again and Joe opened the door.

Standing at the door were two men wearing black suits. Joe could easily see the tell-tale bulge of shoulder holsters under the men's jackets. The one in front gave an oily grin and spoke. "Hi, I'm Agent Smith and this is Agent Anderson. We're with the FBI." He flashed a badge at them and continued. "We're looking for this woman." He showed Joe a photograph.

Joe looked at the photo and was not surprised to see that it was a picture of Brandi. Keeping a straight face, he replied, "No, I've never seen her before."

The man's face stiffened and he said, "Then you won't mind if we search the apartment," as he took a step forward.

"May I see the search warrant, please?" Joe asked.

The man drew his gun from his holster and pointed it at Joe's head. "Let us in," he ordered.


	3. Chapter 3

Joe stepped back and the man took two steps into the apartment, but that was as far as he got. Frank put his gun to "Agent Smith's" temple from his position beside the open door and in a low voice said, "I suggest you leave, _now_."

Agent Smith gave a smile that made him look like he was in pain and started to reholster his gun. "No," Frank corrected him, "leave it on the floor." Smith laid the gun on the floor and stepped back out the door.

After the brothers watched the two "agents" walk down the hall and out of the building, Joe closed the door and picked up the gun with a tissue to make sure he didn't damage any fingerprints. "Let's see who he really is," Joe said as he started walking towards the brothers' combination office and crime lab that they had set up in one of the spare bedrooms.

Brandi came out of the living room where she had been hiding. "That man was no FBI agent," she said, her dark eyes flashing. "He was one of my guards. I could recognize his voice."

"Well, we're about to discover his true identity," Joe said. He dusted some fingerprint powder on the handle of the gun and used a special tape to lift the fingerprints. He scanned the prints into the Hardy's state-of-the-art computer and entered it into the program that would search all of the databases to find a match. After searching for several minutes, the computer announced that a match had been found.

"Who is it?" Frank asked.

"I don't know," Joe replied. "It's restricted."

"By who?"

"The CIA," Joe stated blandly.

"The plot thickens," Frank murmured.

Before the brothers could discuss this surprising turn of events, they heard the now familiar sound of someone knocking at the door.

Joe rolled his eyes and said, "Here we go again." The boys took up their positions while Brandi and Chet hid in the office. Joe opened the door to reveal Fenton and Laura Hardy waiting to be admitted. "Hurry up and get in here," Joe said to them as he glanced nervously up and down the hall outside the front door. The boys' parents hurried inside as Joe shut and locked the door.

Slim, attractive Laura Hardy saw the gun in Frank's hand and asked, "What is going on, boys?"

"I think you had better sit down." Frank advised as he led his parents into the living room. Upon seeing that there was no danger, Brandi and Chet joined them. Fenton and Laura looked at Brandi curiously and then looked back to Frank and Joe for an explanation.

Without a word, Frank handed his dad the envelope that Brandi had shown them. With a question in his eyes, he removed the contents and read them. He paled and silently handed the papers to his wife. She gasped and her hand flew to her mouth.

"I take it from your reactions that it's true?" Frank asked.

With tears slipping down her cheeks, Laura Hardy nodded. "Yes, we never brought it up because even though she was taken three years before you were born, Frank, it was still too painful a topic."

Fenton put in, "They never found her. We finally assumed that she had been killed and the body disposed of. Now where did you boys get this?"

Frank casually said, "From Brandi."

"What?!" Fenton exclaimed.

"This is not a joking matter," Laura added, coldly.

Joe stood up, "Mom, Dad, I would like to introduce you to Brandi Kerry Hardy."

As Joe and Frank explained the situation, Mr. and Mrs. Hardy listened in disbelief.

"I find this all hard to believe," Mr. Hardy finally said. "It's all too incredible."

"I know how we can know for sure," Frank put in. "I was talking to Phil Cohen and he told me that he has some new computer equipment that allows him to match DNA. If you want, I'll give him a call."

"That's a good idea," Brandi said. "I want to know for sure as well."

Frank quickly placed a call to his friend Phil Cohen, who was attending a different college located in New York City. Phil was a whiz at everything related to computers and electronics. When Frank told Phil what he wanted, Phil agreed to bring his equipment over immediately.

While the group waited for Phil to arrive, the boys told their father about the so-called agents and the fact that "Agent Smith's" fingerprints were restricted by the CIA. Because of his world-famous investigating, Fenton Hardy had many contacts in the government. He agreed to call a few and find out who the fingerprints belonged to.

Before long there was a knock on the door and the Hardys cautiously opened it to admit Phil Cohen. "I brought everything I need," Phil told them. "Now where are the lucky victims?"

Frank told them that his parents and Brandi were the ones that needed comparing. Phil raised his eyebrows when he heard this. As he set up his equipment, Frank explained the whole story to him. When he had finished, Phil gave a low whistle and said, "That is something else." He made a few final adjustments to the equipment and said, "Ok. I'm all ready." He took several q-tips and told Fenton, Laura, and Brandi to soak them with their saliva. Once the ends of the q-tips were saturated, he inserted them into separate ports on one of the pieces of equipment that was attached to his laptop. He took several minutes to give the computer program some orders and then sat back. "Now we wait," he said.

"What's it doing?" Brandi wanted to know.

"Right now it's unraveling the DNA sequence of the different samples and then it will compare them to each other to see if they match," Phil told her. "It will take a couple of minutes."

Almost exactly three minutes later a computerized voice came from the laptop's speakers. "Analysis complete," it informed them.


	4. Chapter 4

The gathered group caught their breaths and a split second later the voice announced, "Match confirmed. DNA Sample 'Brandi' is a match to DNA Samples 'Fenton' and 'Laura'."

At this pronouncement everyone gathered in the room gasped and looked at each other in stunned silence. Frank was the first to gather his wits. He smiled and said to Brandi, "Welcome to the family, Sis," as he gave her a hug.

"Oh my," was all Laura Hardy could manage through her tears as she hugged her long-lost daughter. Fenton Hardy hugged both of them together. The others in the room could see that even the usually calm and collected investigator had tears streaming down his face.

"Wow," Chet said. "This is huge."

"That's an understatement, Buddy," Joe said. He too gave his new-found sister a hug.

"Gertrude has to hear about this," Fenton Hardy said as he reached for his phone. "She was as devastated as the rest of us when Brandi disappeared." Gertrude Hardy was Fenton Hardy's older sister who lived with the Hardy's in their Bayport home. Although on the outside she seemed a bit tough, on the inside she was secretly a very gentle person.

As Fenton talked to his sister, Joe turned to Frank, "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Big Brother?" he asked him quietly.

"What are you thinking?" Frank countered.

"I'm thinking that we can't just leave it at this. We need to find out what's been happening all these years."

"I agree," Frank told him. "We need to find out who did this and bring them to justice for what they've done to us."

"Don't forget those bogus FBI agents," Joe said. "We need to get rid of them so we don't have to be looking over our shoulders all the time."

"That's true," Frank agreed.

Chet leaned over to where the brothers were talking in low voices. "Count me in, guys," he said. "I'd like to get my hands on whoever did this to you guys." The once chubby teenager had lost weight and bulked up after he had come to college and was now had the body of a weight lifter.

Frank nodded, "You're on."

Phil also leaned over, "Me too," he put in. "What those people did is just sick."

"Thanks, guys," Frank said. He thought about how lucky he was to have such good friends as these.

"Don't think your whispering is keeping me from knowing what you guys are talking about," Fenton Hardy suddenly said as he ended the call with his sister. "You want to know what has been going on for the last twenty-three years and, frankly, so do I. I can't just blow off the case I'm on right now, but I will give you all the help I can. And I'm going to start with calling those contacts in the CIA." With that, Fenton Hardy dialed a number with his cell phone and talked to the person for several minutes. He scribbled something on a scrap of paper and then hung up the phone. "Here," he said, handing the scrap to Frank. "This is the secure e-mail address of Agent Dickson. E-mail the print to him and he'll tell us who it belongs to."

"Done," Frank agreed; already on his way to the office.

The Hardy family and their gathered friends waited impatiently for the phone to ring with the identity of the mysterious "Agent Smith." Ten minutes passed. Twenty minutes passed. Twenty-five minutes after Frank has e-mailed the prints, Fenton Hardy's cell phone rang. He answered on the first ring. After greeting Agent Dickson, he listened for several minutes and then hung up the phone. As the gathered group watched him eagerly, he scribbled some notes on a scrap of paper. "The man's name is Edward Sexton. He is a former CIA covert operative. While on assignment in Europe about ten years ago, he went rogue. Sexton killed his partner and disappeared. He has turned up many times throughout the last decade, usually in connection with terrorist activities. Agent Dickson warned me to be very careful if we are dealing with this man."

"So where do we start?" Chet wanted to know.

"I suggest that you start by finding out everything that Brandi knows," Mr. Hardy suggested. "I would help you, but I need to be back in Bayport for an important meeting."

The group gathered in the Hardy brothers' apartment said their goodbyes to Fenton and Laura as they prepared to leave. When they were ready to leave, Frank and Joe made sure the hallway was clear before they let them out of the apartment.

Once Mr. and Mrs. Hardy were gone, Frank and Joe returned to the living room where their friends and their sister were waiting impatiently. "Ok," Frank said. "Let's get started." He grabbed a notebook and a pen and opened the notebook to a blank page. "First question: What was your fake grandfather's name?"

"George Matson," Brandi answered.

"Where was his house?"

"Los Angeles, California."

"What college did you go to and what was your major?"

"How is that relevant?"

"It may not be, but I want to know and it may have some relevance." Frank grinned at her.

"Okay," Brandi answered. "I went to University of California-Los Angeles and I majored in Law Enforcement with a minor in Physics.

Phil raised his eyebrows. "What made you choose that combination?" he wanted to know.

"I didn't choose," Brandi answered. "My 'grandfather' told me what to study."

"Am I the only one to who this doesn't make sense?" Chet asked. "If she was kidnapped, why do the kidnappers want her to study law enforcement? And where do the Physics come in?"

"I'm with Chet," Joe agreed.

"I have a crazy brainstorm," Frank said. "I may be totally off base, but it would kind of fit."

"Go for it," Brandi encouraged.

"Well, whoever kidnapped Brandi is obviously a very powerful criminal organization, right?" When the others nodded in agreement, Frank continued. "Well, what would be better than an inside man, or woman in this case. What if they were training Brandi to be a crooked cop or federal agent?"


	5. Chapter 5

The others looked at Frank with their eyes wide.

"You think they wanted me to be some kind of criminal?" Brandi said, not wanting to believe it.

"That can't be right, can it?" Joe asked.

"Hey," Frank said. "I just said it was a crazy brainstorm. I could be completely wrong."

"I hope so," Brandi said with a shudder.

After this, the Hardy's spent almost an hour questioning Brandi in detail and writing down her answers. At the end of that time, Frank closed the notebook. "I think we have enough for now," he said. "At the very least we have something to give the FBI. They can storm the house in Los Angeles, although I doubt there is anybody left there, and they can start looking for Sexton."

"Sounds like a good start," Joe agreed.

Frank picked up the phone and called Agent Anita Johnson. Agent Johnson was an FBI agent that Joe and Frank had worked with on previous cases. Frank explained the whole situation to her. Although it took some convincing, Agent Johnson agreed to send a team into the house where Brandi had grown up and also put out and alert for Edward Sexton.

"So what do we do now?" Joe asked after Frank had hung up the phone. "Wait for her to call back?"

"Of course not," Frank said. "We find Sexton."

"How are we going to do that?" Chet wanted to know.

"Well, Phil can stay here and search hotel registrations while the rest of us do some leg work. We'll go around to hotels in the area and see if they have anyone that looks like Sexton register recently."

"That would be a lot easier to do if we had a picture of him," Joe said.

"Now that we have his name, it shouldn't be too hard to find his picture online," Frank replied as he stood up and headed for the office. After several minutes of searching and some low-level hacking, Frank had obtained a picture of Edward Sexton. He printed off several copies on the brothers' laser printer and handed them out. "Chet, you and Joe can go together in your car and Brandi and I will go in our car."

"Sounds good to me," Chet agreed.

Frank quickly made up a list of hotels for Chet and Joe and another list for himself and Brandi. "Call me if you find anything," he ordered. "Otherwise, we'll meet back here in three hours."

The groups split up and headed towards the cars. Since both Frank and Joe had concealed weapon permits, they both took handguns concealed in shoulder holsters with them.

"What's our ride?" Brandi asked Frank.

Frank grinned. "Our ride is one of a kind," he said. They walked up to the garage that corresponded with the Hardys' apartment number and Frank opened the door.

Upon seeing the car parked in the garage, Brandi gave an appreciative whistle. "Let me guess," she said, "1970 Pontiac GTO Judge, V-8 400 engine?"

"Close," Frank said, "but not quite. This is a 1970 Pontiac GTO Judge, but it has a V-8 455 engine."

"I'm even more impressed," Brandi said. "What'd you do? Knock over a bank? If I remember correctly, they only made three of the 1970 convertibles with the 455."

It was Frank's turn to be impressed. "That's right," he said. "How'd you know that?"

"Well," she answered, "when you're cooped up by yourself with not much more than a computer all day, you tend to develop interesting hobbies. I did a lot of research on cars."

"And in reference to robbing a bank," Frank said, "we didn't have to. The owner of this car was an elderly gentleman that we helped on one of our cases. He was so appreciative that he left the car to us in his will."

"Wow," Brandi said. "I could get into this private investigator thing."

"Stick around here very long and you'll get your chance," Frank told her wryly. They climbed into the car and Frank started it up. He grinned at the steady roar of the engine and put the car into gear. He backed quickly out of the garage and they were on their way.

After a few minutes of driving, Brandi commented, "I see quite a few buttons and other controls that I'm pretty sure didn't come standard in a '70 GTO."

Fran grinned. "That's true," he said. "We had Phil, our resident electronics genius, hook us up with quite a few goodies." He leaned over and pressed a button on the dash in front of Brandi. Immediately a screen rose out of the top of the dash and a keyboard popped out in front of Brandi.

"Will you ever cease to amaze me?" Brandi asked as she looked at the computer that had materialized before her eyes.

"I hope not," Frank quipped. "Now input these addresses so I can figure out where we're going." He handed her the list of hotels that they were supposed to be searching and explained how to use the computer to get driving directions to them. Before too long they had arrived at their first stop. The two young people climbed out of the car and Frank locked it with a remote as they walked into the hotel.

As they walked up to the desk, they rehearsed what they were going to say. They approached the clerk and Frank began to speak. "Hello," he said. "We're looking for a friend of ours. We think he may be staying at this hotel." He showed the clerk the picture of Sexton. "Have you seen him?"

The clerk, a young man in his early twenties looked closely at the picture and said, "No, I'm pretty sure that he isn't here. I hope you find him though."

Frank and Brandi thanked the man and returned to their car. They started driving down the street, following the computer directions to their next destination. As they neared their destination, Frank said, "This is not the greatest part of town. Keep an eye out for trouble."

Moments later, a black, late model sedan with tinted windows came roaring up beside them on the nearly empty road. "Frank!" Brandi screamed as she saw the barrel of a machine gun protruding from the open passenger window. Frank turned to look just in time to see the evil sneer on Edward Sexton's face as he pulled the trigger.


	6. Chapter 6

Brandi screamed again as the bullets sped towards them. Her screams stopped as she realized the bullets were ricocheting harmlessly off of the windows. She looked at Frank questioningly. Frank only grinned. He looked towards the attackers' car and grinned again as he saw the look of disbelief on Edward Sexton's face. Sexton quickly regained his composure though and changed his mode of attack. Instead of aiming for the car's occupants he aimed for the car's tires. This new plan did not work, however, the car carrying the Hardys continued straight on its path. Seeing this, the car holding Edward Sexton and the phony "Agent Anderson" sped away down the street.

"Ok," Brandi said as she gathered her wits, "spill it."

Frank continued grinning as he said, "The vast amount of modifications on this car include armor plating, bulletproof glass, and run-flat tires. Now if you don't mind, let's give these guys something to remember us by." He pushed down on the accelerator and the powerful car leapt forward. In moments the gap between the cars had been closed. Frank flipped one of the many switches on the dash of the car and a sturdy push bumper snapped into place on the front of the bright yellow sports car. "Hang on!" he yelled as he pushed down on the accelerator further. The Hardys' car smashed into the back of the fleeing sedan. Frank flipped another switch and began to slow down.

"What was that one?" Brandi wanted to know.

"That switch turned the push bumper into a powerful magnet," Frank explained. "If we have a good connection, we should be able to stop their car completely. I'd like to have a chat with these guys." By this time the cars had slowed to a crawl. They were about to come to a complete stop when then criminals in the black car suddenly accelerated quickly and broke free of the magnetized bumper. Frank was preparing to give chase when he saw flashing lights in his rearview mirror. Frank sighed and pulled over to the side of the road. The police car pulled over behind the yellow car and Frank saw the police officer exit the car. He hid behind his door and pointed his gun at the sports car.

"Please exit the car with your hands visible!" the officer shouted over his loudspeaker.

"This is not good," Frank muttered to Brandi as they both obeyed the officer's order.

"Place your hands on the top of the car and do not move," the officer ordered.

Once Frank and Brandi had complied, the police officer approached them. He quickly frisked Frank and removed the gun from his shoulder holster. Then he handcuffed Frank and started to read him his Miranda rights.

"Really, Officer, I can explain," Frank protested. "Those guys were shooting at us! Call the chief; he'll vouch for me. What are you arresting me for, anyway?"

"For starters, reckless driving, exceeding the speed limit by more than forty miles per hour, illegal modifications on your car, and I'm sure I'll come up with a few more things, especially if it turns out that you don't have a license to carry this gun."

"I do have a permit," Frank told him as he tried to hold his temper in check. He could tell the cop was a rookie trying to impress his superiors. "My father is Fenton Hardy," Frank tried again, "and we're good friends with the police chief."

"I've never heard of Fenton Hardy," the rookie sneered, "and it doesn't matter who you're friends with. As for all this nonsense about people shooting at you, I can tell you are lying by looking at your car. It doesn't have a scratch on it."

Frank was beginning to get exasperated. "That's because it's bulletproof," he explained.

"Tell it to the judge," the cop said as he led Frank to his squad car and shoved him into the back seat. After Frank was secured in the back of the car, the police officer returned to where Brandi was leaning on the car. "Unfortunately, I don't have anything on you," he said. "You're free to go." He returned to his car and sped away down the street.

*****

Joe and Chet were having no luck as they searched the hotels that they were assigned. "I hope Frank and Brandi are doing better than we are," he told Chet.

"They'd better be," Chet said. "Let's head back, I'm hungry."

Joe shook his head and grinned. Some things never change. At that moment Joe's cell phone began to ring. He answered it and was surprised to hear Brandi on the other end. She quickly explained what had happened to Frank. When Joe heard this, he immediately started calling the officer names under his breath. "What an idiot," he growled, his short temper almost gone. "I'll make a few calls," Joe told her. "Meanwhile, you stay in the car and keep the doors locked. You should be safe there." He hung up the phone and immediately began dialing.

*****

The rookie police officer, whose nametag identified him as Officer Jackson, led Frank into the police station and up to the desk to begin the booking process. As the desk sergeant saw Frank he said, "Hi, Frank, how's it going? How's the family?"

"I've been better, Jake," Frank replied, "but as far as I know, the rest of the family is doing pretty well."

The rookie was slightly taken aback at this exchange. "You know this hooligan?" he asked the desk sergeant.

"Of course I do," Jake replied. "Everybody around here knows the Hardys."

At precisely that moment the door slammed open and an imposing figure stalked into the station. "What's going on here?" Chief Williams roared at the already reddening rookie. "What kind of idiot are you?"

"He was speeding," the rookie protested.

"Did it ever occur to you that he had a reason to be speeding?"

"Well, he said that someone was shooting at them, but the car was undamaged…"

"That's because it's bulletproof!" the chief answered sarcastically, "and if Frank Hardy says someone was shooting at him, it's because they were."

"And all the illegal modifications…"

"I myself granted the permits for those modifications," the chief was steaming by this point.

"I'm sorry, sir," he gulped.

"You're free to go, Frank," the chief told him. "Do you need a ride anywhere?"

"I could use a ride back to where I left my car," Frank told him.

"Well, Officer Jackson here will be more than happy to give you a ride back there. Won't you, Jackson?"

"Yes, sir," the shamefaced rookie replied.

Frank led the way out of the station and out to Officer Jackson's squad car. The trip back to the street where the officer had arrested Frank was a quiet one indeed. Frank was still a little angry at the rookie, although his anger has subsided considerably. The rookie was too embarrassed to say anything to the person who was the cause of his embarrassment.

When the officer pulled in behind the Hardys' car, Frank wasted no time in getting out of the police car. He leaned his head in through the open door that he had just exited through and sarcastically said, "Thanks for the ride."

As he walked up to the car, Brandi saw him, hopped out of the car, and ran to meet him. She hugged him tightly and said, "I was so worried!"

"I was for a little bit," Frank admitted. "Now I'm just beat. Let's go home." They climbed into the car and Frank started driving towards the Hardy apartment.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Why is almost nobody reviewing my story? Is it really that bad? I've checked the traffic report and there are lots of people viewing it, so I know people are reading it. Please review and tell me what you like, or don't like. I'd even be happy with someone telling me that I made a typo. :-D I have been posting a new chapter every day, and I will continue to do so if I get some reviews. Otherwise, I'll just assume that nobody wants to read my story. ;-)**

**Thank you to the meager few of you who have posted reviews. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story! :-D**

When Frank and Brandi arrived back at the apartment, Chet and Joe were already there. "Everything work out okay?" Joe asked.

"Sure," Frank replied. "As soon as the chief got there everything was great."

"I thought that would help," Joe said, "so I gave him a call."

"Thanks," Frank said. "So you guys drew a blank?" he asked Joe and Chet.

"That's right," Chet said. "We didn't find anything. We had one old guy say he was there, at least that's what he said until he put on his glasses, and then he said he had never seen him." The others laughed as Chet imitated the elderly man.

"How about you, Phil?" Frank asked. "Did you find anything on the computer end?"

"Nothing," Phil replied. "I couldn't find a single Edward Sexton or 'Agent Smith' registered anywhere."

"That doesn't really surprise me," Frank admitted, "but it was worth a try."

"True," Phil acknowledged. He stood up and started to gather his equipment, "I have to be going now," he told them. "I have some homework to do yet tonight."

"All right, Phil," Frank said. "Thanks for your help." The others added their thanks and they all bid Phil goodbye.

The remaining group chatted lightly for a few minutes before Chet said, "I have to be going as well, I'm supposed to take Angie out tonight." Once again the others thanked him for his help and said their goodbyes.

"I don't know about the rest of you," Joe said, "but I, for one, am hungry." Brandi and Frank were quick to agree with him.

"I'll fry up some hamburgers," Frank offered.

"I'll help," Brandi volunteered. The three young people pitched in and in no time had prepared a delicious meal.

As they ate, Frank asked Brandi, "Do you have any other clothes or any luggage?"

"I did," Brandi answered, "but I left them when I ran from the intruder."

"I'm sure we can find something for you to sleep in," Joe said.

"Why don't you find something for Brandi to wear, and I'll put the clothes she has on in the washing machine. Tomorrow we'll have to go shopping and pick up some things. It's too late to go yet tonight."

"Sounds like a plan," Joe agreed.

"That sounds wonderful," Brandi seconded.

Frank and Joe put the plan into action. When they had finished they sat down in the living room. Brandi was wearing a pair of Joe's sweatpants and a much too large tee shirt. The three siblings were debating which movie to watch when the phone rang. Frank answered it. He said a few words in greeting and then listened for a few moments before hanging up the phone. "That was Agent Johnson," he announced. "Just as we suspected, when they got to the house it was completely abandoned. It will take them awhile to completely search it for any clues, but they're working on it."

"Did she say who the registered owner of the house was?" Joe asked. "That might give us some clue."

"No such luck," Frank said as he shook his head. "The owner was listed as George Matson, Brandi's so-called grandfather."

"Well," Joe said, his curiosity satisfied, "since we can't do anything more about that tonight, why don't we get on with this movie?"

The others agreed. After another short discussion, the three finally agree on a movie and Joe put it in the player. Two hours later, after several pauses for popcorn and drinks, the movie was finished. The three tired youths stumbled off to bed, Joe in his bed, Brandi in Frank's, and Frank on the couch. In no time at all, the three siblings were fast asleep.

Several hours later, Frank awakened. Had he heard something? Was he just imagining it? He couldn't tell. He lay on the couch for a while trying to determine if he had actually heard something. He was about to go back to sleep when he glimpsed a shadowy figure sneaking into the living room where he was sleeping. He tensed and waited for the figure to get closer. The intruder stopped in front of him and Frank could see something in his hand. Frank suddenly realized that the item in the figure's hand was a handkerchief. Instantly he deducted that the handkerchief was probably soaked in chloroform or a similar substance. He held his breath as the figure clamped the handkerchief over his mouth. Just for show, Frank struggled for a few seconds and then pretended to pass out. The intruder removed the handkerchief and then examined his prey. As the man looked at him, Frank heard him mutter a curse as he realized who he had attacked the wrong person. He did not have long to reflect on this though because Frank suddenly leapt off of the couch and attacked the man.

"Joe! Help!" Frank cried out as he grappled with the man. He managed to pin the attacker to the ground. Suddenly, as Frank held the man down, he felt a blow to the back of the head. He felt the blackness engulf him as he slumped to the floor.

Moments later, Joe ran into the room in response to Frank's call. He discovered Frank lying unconscious on the floor. "Frank!" he called out in alarm. He rushed to his brother's side and knelt on the floor. He shook his brother's shoulders and chafed his wrists.

Frank groaned and moved his head just as Brandi came dashing into the room. "What happened?" she gasped in alarm at seeing Frank on the floor.

"I don't know," Joe told her. "But he's coming around so we should know soon."

Frank groaned again and tried to sit up. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he fell back onto the floor. "Take it easy," Joe advised. "It looks like you've had a nasty blow."

"What hit me?" Frank asked as he lay with his eyes closed.

"We were hoping you could tell us," Joe replied.

Frank tried to think. "I remember that some guy came into the living room. He tried to drug me with chloroform or something, but I saw him coming and held my breath. After he thought I was unconscious, he looked more closely at me and I heard him swear as if he had got the wrong person."

Frank paused and Brandi gasped. "He thought I would be on the couch!" she exclaimed. "I'll bet he was trying to capture me!"


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews guys! **

**Here's the next chapter-enjoy!**

After a moment of stunned silence, Frank said, "You're probably right. That would explain it."

"So what happened next?" Joe demanded impatiently. "How did you get knocked out?"

"Well, I jumped the guy. That's when I called you. I had just managed to pin him when someone hit me from behind. I guess there was more than one intruder," Frank told them.

"I'll go check the front door," Joe said. He cautiously approached the front hallway, snatching up one of the Hardys' guns as he went. Just moments later, he returned to the living room. "What'd you find?" Frank queried.

"Not much," Joe replied. "The door was slightly open, so they obviously left in a hurry. It hadn't been forced open so I'm guessing they either got their hands on a key or they managed to pick the lock."

"Any chance for prints?" Frank asked. He sat up and winced as he felt a throbbing where he had been hit.

"I'll go check," Joe replied as he started walking towards the office to get the fingerprint kit.

"And I'm going to get an icepack for that bump on your head," Brandi said as she headed towards the kitchen. She returned shortly, holding a towel with a bag of ice wrapped in it. She held it on the bump on the back of Frank's head to stop the swelling.

After several minutes, when Joe failed to return, Frank began to get worried. "I wonder what is taking Joe so long," Frank said out loud. "I had better go check on him." He started to get up.

"Oh, no you don't," Brandi said as she gently pushed him back. "I'll go look for him."

"It's not safe," Frank protested.

"I'll be fine," she returned. "Do you have another gun in here?"

"There's one in the end table drawer," Frank told her. "Do you know how to shoot?"

"I've had plenty of practice," she told him. She grabbed the gun and started to walk towards the hallway. At that moment she saw a figure dressed in black running towards the front door. "Stop!" she yelled. When the intruder failed to do so, she fired a shot in his direction. Instead of stopping, he flung the door open and ran down the hall. By the time Brandi made it to the hall, the man was long gone. She quickly shut and locked the front door. Concerned for Joe, she dashed towards the office. As she approached the office, she noticed that Joe was lying on the floor. She quickly knelt by his side and felt for a pulse. She let out a sigh of relief as she felt a weak but steady pulse.

At that moment, Frank appeared in the doorway of the office. He leaned against the doorpost, unsteadily, and asked, "What happened?"

Brandi quickly told him and then asked him what she should do about Joe.

"Is there any sign of a blow to the head?" Frank asked her. When she replied in the negative, he said, "Then he'll be fine. He was probably drugged. Let's carry him to his bed and he should wake up before too long." Frank and Brandi picked up their younger brother and carried him to his bed. Brandi volunteered to watch over him for a while to make sure that he really was okay. After obtaining a promise from Brandi to wake him if anything happened, Frank returned to the couch and went to sleep.

Some time later Frank was suddenly awakened yet again by Brandi shaking him. "I'm worried," she told him. "Joe hasn't woke up yet and he seems to be getting worse."

Frank was instantly wide awake. He hurried to Joe's room and was shocked to see that Joe's skin was pale. As he approached the bed, he could see that Joe's breathing was shallow and labored. "This is not good," he declared. "They must have been using something other than chloroform or he would be awake by now." He immediately pulled out his cell phone and called 911. Within moments he was explaining the situation to an operator who immediately dispatched an ambulance to the Hardys' apartment.

Frank and Brandi waited anxiously for the ambulance to arrive. Within minutes they heard the siren approaching the building. Soon, several paramedics were strapping Joe onto a stretcher and rolling him out of the building to the waiting ambulance. Frank followed and hopped into the back of the ambulance.

"I'll follow you," Brandi told Frank as the paramedics closed the ambulance doors. He passed her his keys and she ran towards the garage where the Hardys kept their bright yellow car. Within moments she was behind the ambulance as it sped towards the hospital.

At the hospital, Brandi and Frank waited impatiently as Joe was taken to be examined. They paced up and down the waiting room. After about an hour, a doctor approached them. "Mr. Hardy?" he inquired.

"That's me," Frank answered, giving the man his full attention.

"We have managed to stabilize your brother, but we are unable to determine the cause of his unconsciousness."

"So he's still unconscious?" Brandi asked.

"That is correct," the doctor affirmed.

"You don't have any idea what is wrong?" Frank asked incredulously.

"We have given him antidotes for all of the common knock-out drugs, but they do not seem to be having any effect. We have sent his blood out for testing to see if we isolate the poison, but that could take some time."

"He will wake up soon though, won't he?" Frank asked.

"Mr. Hardy," the doctor said, "if we don't find out how to combat this substance, he may never wake up!"


	9. Chapter 9

Frank went white at the doctor's words and Brandi's hand flew to her mouth. "There's nothing else you can do?" Brandi asked.

"If we could get a sample of whatever he was drugged or poisoned with, we could manufacture an antidote for it," the doctor told her. "Other than that, we can only keep him stable and hope that the blood tests turn up something."

"We're just going to have to get a sample of that drug," Frank said. It was easy to hear the determination in his voice. "Come on, Brandi," he said, "let's get started." After obtaining the doctor's promise to call them if anything developed, Frank and Brandi hurried out to the Hardys' sports car. Frank threw the car in gear and the tires squealed as they tore out of the parking lot.

Within a few short minutes, Frank pulled the car to a stop in front of their apartment building. As they entered the apartment, Brandi asked, "Where are we going to start?"

"First I'm going to try to get some fingerprints off of the door like Joe was going to do. Then I'm going to get our buddies together to search for whoever did this." He looked at Brandi who was still wearing Joe's sweats and tee shirt and then at himself in his shorts and tee. "On second thought, the first thing I'm going to do is get dressed. You should probably follow my example."

"I don't have anything to wear," Brandi reminded him.

"Oh, right. I almost forgot about that." He thought for a moment then said, "How about this; while I'm getting dressed and checking for prints, you can go out and get some clothes." He looked at his watch. "There should be some clothing stores open by now." He wrote down the location of several nearby stores. He gave Brandi his credit card and told her the amount that Mr. and Mrs. Hardy had said she could spend on new clothes. Frank was already on his way to the shower as Brandi left the apartment with one of the Hardys' handguns tucked into her purse.

Frank quickly showered and changed into a pair of jeans and a clean tee shirt. Feeling better, he grabbed the fingerprint kit from the office and dusted around the door knob of the front door. He lifted several prints and took them back to the Hardy's office. He scanned them into the computer and waited as the computer searched for matches. The first one came up as Edward Sexton. Frank did not know whether or not that was from that night or from when Sexton had been masquerading as "Agent Smith." The second print took a bit longer to match. Several minutes later, the computer announced that it had found the match. Frank was surprised to see that this print was also restricted, but this time by the FBI. Without hesitation, Frank picked up his phone and called Agent Johnson.

"Good morning, Frank," she said as she came on the line. "What can I do for you this morning?"

"Someone broke into our apartment last night," Frank told her. "He drugged Joe and escaped. He did leave his fingerprint on the door knob though."

"Who was it?" she wanted to know.

"I wish I knew," Frank replied, "but the record is restricted by you guys."

"That's interesting," Agent Johnson said.

"Are you going to tell me who it was?" Frank asked.

"Send me the print and I'll run it," she told him. "You still have my secure e-mail address, right?"

Frank answered in the affirmative and ended the call. He quickly sent the file and waited impatiently for a reply. In the meantime he called up several of his friends who were attending college in the immediate area. Biff Hooper, Tony Prito, Chet Morton, and Phil Cohen agreed to come over and help in the search for Joe's attacker.

Frank poured himself a bowl of cereal and made a pot of coffee while he continued to wait for Agent Johnson to call. He was just finishing his cereal when his cell phone rang. "Hello?" he said; his mouth half full.

"Frank?" Agent Johnson asked.

Frank swallowed and confirmed that he was there.

"I have some information about that print."

"What do you have?"

"Apparently that print belongs to one Joshua Colder."

"Let me guess," Frank put in, "he was one of your agents that went rogue on a mission and you haven't heard from him since."

She sounded surprised. "How did you know that?" she demanded.

"Just a guess," Frank told her. "We seem to be running into that a lot lately."

"Well, you hit the nail on the head. Matter of fact, this is the first we've had any information regarding his whereabouts. We were not sure if he was still alive or not. I'll send you his picture."

Frank gathered several more facts about the former Agent Colder and then ended the call. He checked his e-mail and downloaded the picture that Agent Johnson sent him. He was only mildly surprised to discover that Joshua Colder was the man that they knew as "Agent Anderson." He printed off several copies of the picture as well as some more pictures of Edward Sexton. "I wonder why all of these rogue agents are working together," Frank mused to himself. He did not have long to think about this new turn of events before there was a knock on the front door.

Frank opened the door to reveal his friend Tony Prito. Tony was a young boy of Italian decent. His father owned the young people's favorite hang out in their hometown of Bayport, the restaurant named Mr. Pizza. "Hey, Tony," Frank greeted him. "Thanks for coming."

"My pleasure," Tony said. "When you told me what was going on, I had to be in on it."

The youths sat down in the living room and began to discuss their plan for the day. Before too long, another knock was heard and Frank opened the door to admit Biff Hooper. Biff was a tall, muscular young man who was a natural at sports. His favorite, however, was football. He was attending college in New York City on a football scholarship. Frank greeted Biff and the two rejoined Tony in the living room.

Several minutes later, there was another knock at the front door. "I'll get it," Biff volunteered. His long stride made short work of the distance to the door. He opened it and his jaw dropped. "Wow!" he exclaimed.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Sorry, ****ndhb nerd, Nancy will not appear until my next story, **_**Forgotten Enemies**_**. But it is already written and I will post it as soon as I have finished posting this one. So stay tuned!**

Biff stepped back and opened the door wider. In walked Brandi with her arms full of shopping bags. She set them down on the floor and extended her hand. She was now dressed in a pair of jeans and an orange sweater that set off her dark hair beautifully. "Hi," she said, "I'm Brandi."

Biff shook her outstretched hand and said, "Nice to meet you, Brandi. I'm Biff." He smiled. "How did an ugly guy like Frank end up with such a pretty sister?"

"I heard that!" Frank called from the living room.

Brandi and Biff both laughed as they joined the rest of the group in the living room. Frank introduced Brandi to Tony and they continued their conversation. Before long Chet and Phil had also arrived and joined the discussion.

"So how is Joe doing?" Chet asked.

"I don't know," Frank replied. "I haven't heard anything. I'll call the hospital and find out." He placed the call. When he had hung up, he shook his head and said, "There's no change. He's still unconscious."

"Well, I, for one, want to get my hands on whoever did this," Biff said. He cracked his knuckles to emphasize his point.

Frank handed out the photos that he had printed off. "These are the most likely suspects," he told the group. "Their fingerprints were found on the front door and they are both wanted criminals."

"They don't look so tough," Biff said, unimpressed.

"Don't let their looks fool you," Frank cautioned. "Colder was a trained FBI agent and Sexton was a covert CIA operative. They have already tried to kill me and Brandi once. The only reason we're still here is because of the armor that we had installed on the GTO."

"What is these guys' game?" Tony asked. "What are they after?"

"I wish I could tell you," Frank said. "We know they're after Brandi. Why, we don't know. I am curious as to why so many rogue government agents are in on this."

"I just had a thought," Phil said. "You don't think the Network has anything to do with this, do you? This sounds like their kind of operation." The Network was a top secret government agency that Frank and Joe sometimes worked for. Although in the past the brothers had been wary of the organization, they were now glad to help out when they were needed. For their services, they were paid well which allowed them to afford their crime fighting equipment.

"There's only one problem with that," Frank replied. "The Network had absolutely no reason to want us dead."

"True," Phil consented.

"You have given me an idea, though," Frank said. "I should call the Gray Man and see if he knows anything about what's going on." Arthur Gray, or the Gray Man, was the head of the Network. He was also Joe and Frank's usual contact in the Network.

"That's not a bad idea," Chet said. "He seems to know everything else that's going on."

"I'll do that now," Frank decided. He picked up his cell phone and dialed the Gray Man's secret number.

Arthur Gray answered on the first ring. "Hello, Franklin," he said. "How's your brother?"

"I think you already know," Frank said.

"That is correct," the Gray Man admitted.

"So you know that we need to get our hands on whatever he was drugged with?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any idea what it was?" Frank asked the man.

"I do not," the Gray Man told him. "I do have my men searching for Edward Sexton and Joshua Colder as we speak."

"Any luck?"

"Not yet, but I should know more by tonight."

"Okay," Frank replied. "Now what do you know about this situation with our sister?"

The Gray Man sounded surprised. "She disappeared twenty-three years ago. What else do you need to know?"

"She has resurfaced," Frank told him. He was pleased to realize that he finally knew something that the knowledgeable Arthur Gray did not.

"Tell me everything," the Gray Man demanded.

Frank explained everything to him. He knew without asking that Arthur Gray was taking copious notes. He also knew that the call was also being recorded for future reference. He asked a few questions and wrote down the answers and then said, "I will look into this. I'll call you later." With that he hung up the phone.

Frank turned back to the gathered group and told them what the Gray Man had said. "I think it's time for us to get to work," he said when he had finished his story. He broke the group up into pairs and gave each pair a section of the nearby area to search. He supplied them each with a map and the pictures that he had printed off of the two rogue agents. He and Brandi would visit the body shops in the area to see if anyone had brought in a black sedan with a damaged rear end.

"Does everyone have some form of protection?" Frank checked.

"I have my gun," Biff said.

"I have my throwing stars," Tony said. Tony had been studying martial arts for the past several years and had proved a natural at using the throwing stars.

"I have a taser," Phil said.

"How about you, Chet?" Frank asked his friend.

"Nothing," Chet replied. "Do you still have that set of throwing knives I like?"

"Sure," Frank said. "They're in the car. We can pick them up on the way out."

The group left the building and headed off in their different directions. Chet and Tony followed Frank and Brandi to the Hardys' car so that Chet could get the knives. As they reached the yellow car, Frank pressed a button on the remote that he carried on his keychain and the trunk popped open. Frank pressed on of the buttons that were revealed on the inside of the trunk and drawer slid out. The drawer was full of various knives all in slots custom made to the exact shape of the knives. Frank pulled out several small throwing knives that were contained in a sheath that was able to be strapped around the forearm.

Chet took the knives and strapped them to his forearm. "Okay," he said, "now I'm ready." He headed off to his car with Tony to start their search.

Frank turned to Brandi. "Ready to go?" he asked.

"Sure," she said. She grinned. "Do I get a gun too?" she asked playfully.

"Sure," Frank replied. He pressed another button. The knife drawer slid shut and another drawer slid open. Inside the new drawer were several different guns in formed slots. He pulled out a sleek automatic that was in a leg holster and handed it to her.

She strapped the holster to her thigh and pulled out the gun. She inserted the clip that Frank also handed her and pulled back the slide to chamber a round. She set the safety and put the gun back in the holster. "Now I'm ready," she said. "Let's go."

They hopped in the car. Frank started the car and threw it into gear. He stomped the accelerator and they tore away from the curb. Within minutes they pulled up to the first body shop on their list.

Frank and Brandi walked into the building. "We're private detectives," Frank told the man at the front desk. "We're looking for a man that ran out on his wife and took her car in the process," he lied. "It would be a late model black sedan. We think he may try to get it repaired because the rear end was damaged. Have you had any cars in here that match the description?"

The man, who had been looking at Brandi's gun suspiciously, seemed to accept Frank's story. "No, I haven't had any cars like that recently," he replied. "Wish I could be of help."

Frank thanked him and handed him one of his business cards. "If you happen to come across it, could you give us a call?" The man agreed and Frank and Brandi left to check the next shop.

After giving the same story at seventeen different body shops, Frank and Brandi were beginning to get discouraged. Finally they stopped at Jason's Garage and Used Car Sales. They asked Jason about the car.

"Oh sure," he replied to their questions. "I've seen that car."


	11. Chapter 11

"Is it still here?" Frank asked eagerly.

"Oh, sure," the man replied. "Fact is, he sold it to me. I figured once I fixed up that rear end, I could make a nice profit. I didn't know it wasn't his to sell. His paperwork all seemed to be correct."

"Have you cleaned it out yet?" Frank asked.

"No, he left it pretty clean, so I didn't see the need to hurry up and clean it right away," Jason said, to Frank's delight.

"Do you mind if we look over it?"

"Not at all," the man replied. "It's out back." He handed Frank a set of keys.

Frank and Brandi headed out to the back of the building. Frank spotted the car instantly. They quickly approached it and Frank unlocked the doors. "Look for anything at all," he instructed. "Be careful not to ruin any fingerprints." Brandi acknowledged his warning and they began to search the car. After several minutes of searching, Frank said, "It looks like they cleaned this out pretty thoroughly."

"Except this," Brandi announce triumphantly. She held up a plastic zippered sandwich bag. Frank could see a handkerchief inside.

"Is that what I think it is?" he asked eagerly.

"I bet it is," she replied.

"Wonderful," Frank said. They quickly finished searching the car. They found nothing else except a few candy wrappers underneath the seats. Frank wrote down the Vehicle Identification Number and they returned the keys to Jason. "What did the seller of this car look like?" Frank asked him.

Jason perfectly described Edward Sexton. "That's the guy we're looking for," Frank said. "Did he say anything that would give you an idea of where he might be?"

"Not a thing," Jason said.

"Well, if you hear or remember anything more, give us a call." Frank handed him his card and thanked him. As the two siblings returned to their car, Frank said, "Well, we found what we were looking for. Let's get this handkerchief over to the hospital and see if they can manufacture an antidote from it." Frank called the hospital to see if there had been any change in Joe's condition.

"It looks like he has taken a turn for the worst," the doctor said. "If we don't find an antidote immediately, I'm afraid he won't last much longer."

"I think we found the substance," Frank said. "We'll be over with it as soon as possible." He ended the call and started the car. He flipped one of the many switches on the dash. After a second's delay a siren wailed and a flashing light appeared on the top of the car. He threw the car in gear and floored the accelerator. The tires squealed and the car shot forward, throwing the Hardys' backwards in their seats.

"Okay," Brandi said as she looked at Frank, "explain the siren. I know that it is illegal to use a siren and light bar unless you are a cop or something. I am also pretty sure that you are not a cop."

Frank grinned. "It's simple," he explained. "The Network arranged for me and Joe to be made special deputies of the New York Highway Patrol so that we could legally use the siren and lights."

"I see," Brandi said.

Mere minutes later, Frank pulled up to the front of the hospital. He ran inside with Brandi hot on his heels. He gave the bag with the handkerchief in it to the doctor in charge of Joe's case. He quickly ran off with it to the lab to have it evaluated. Frank and Brandi waited impatiently in the waiting room.

As the siblings waited impatiently, Frank called Agent Johnson and told her about Sexton's car. She agreed to send a team over to search the car more thoroughly. He also went out to the car and used the onboard computer to look up the VIN that he had written down Sexton's car. Just as he had half expected, the car had belonged to George Matson, Brandi's "grandfather."

Returning to the waiting room, Frank called Arthur Gray to update him on what they had found out. After the Gray Man had greeted Frank, Frank told him that they had found the handkerchief.

"I know," Arthur Gray replied.

Not very surprised, Frank replied, "Oh?"

"I don't trust those fools at the hospital," the secret agent said. "I had one of our own chemists infiltrate the hospital lab. It should speed the process up."

"I see," Frank replied.

"You don't sound surprised."

It was a statement, not a question, but Frank answered anyway. "I have experienced too much from you to be surprised with much anymore," he said.

"Am I not exciting enough for you, Franklin?"

Frank quickly answered, "No, no, you're plenty exciting." He ended the call and told Brandi what the Gray Man had said.

"I just thought of something," Brandi said. "Have you told Mom and Dad about Joe yet?" She smiled. "That sounded weird. That's the first time I've called anyone that."

"Oh no!" Frank exclaimed. "In all the excitement, I forgot to call them." He quickly pulled out his cell phone and called their dad. After he had explained the reason for his call, he convinced Mr. Hardy to not get Jack to fly him out immediately. "I'll call you if something happens," Frank promised. He ended the call and said to Brandi, "Well, that's over. Thanks for reminding me, sis." He smiled. "And that's the first time I've ever called anyone that." Brandi beamed when he said that. They sat down and waited for news about Joe.

Thirty minutes later the doctor returned. "I'm afraid I have some bad news," he told them.


	12. Chapter 12

Brandi gasped and Frank squeezed her hand. The doctor continued, "Joe is awake and giving us a very hard time."

Brother and sister both breathed a sigh of relief at the doctor's words. "What happened?" Frank wanted to know.

"It's strange," the doctor said with a puzzled look. "A new chemist that we hired just this morning was able to create an antidote to the drug that was on that handkerchief that you brought in. He whipped that thing up so fast that the rest of the chemists didn't know what was going on. The really strange part is that after hearing that it worked, he disappeared."

Frank smiled and winked at Brandi. She smiled also as they both remembered the Gray Man calling the hospital chemists fools. Apparently the Network chemist had done his job well. "Can we see him now?" Frank asked.

"Sure, but you'll have to leave your guns at the desk." He motioned to the bulge of Frank's should holster and looked pointedly at the gun strapped to Brandi's thigh.

"Ok," Frank agreed. The two siblings removed the guns from their holsters, removed the clips, and cleared the chambers. Then they handed the now empty guns to the nurse that was at the desk. "I think we're ready," Frank told the doctor.

"Ok," he said. "Follow me." The two young people followed the doctor as he led the way through a pair of double doors and down the hall beyond them.

As they neared Joe's room, they heard Joe's voice. "I'm fine," he insisted. "Just get me my clothes and let me out of here."

"He's been like that since he woke up," the doctor told them ruefully.

"That sounds like him," Frank replied with a grin.

As they entered the room, Joe turned to look at them and his face lit up. "It's about time you got here," he said. "Tell these people that I'm fine."

Frank turned to the doctor. "What's your opinion?" he asked him.

"He appears to be fine, but I would like to keep him overnight for observation," the doctor replied.

"That sounds reasonable to me," Frank agreed.

"Why can't I leave?" Joe demanded.

"Well, to quote a movie, 'You've been mostly dead all day'," Frank said, imitating the character's voice.

Joe grimaced at the poor imitation and finally relented. "Ok," he said, "but I want something to eat besides this junk they just gave me." He glared distastefully at the tray of hospital food beside his bed.

Frank looked at the doctor questioningly. "I suppose it would be all right if you brought him some other food," he relented. He looked at his watch. "I have to go check on some other patients," he told them. The Hardys thanked him as he left.

"Ok," Joe said when the doctor was gone. "Spill it. What's been going on?"

Frank quickly told him the day's events from the time he was knocked unconscious until the Network chemist had discovered an antidote. "Wow," Joe said. "Quite the day."

"Now you tell us what happened," Frank said. "All we know is that you went to get the fingerprint kit and then we found you unconscious with some dude running for the front door."

"All I know is that someone clamped a handkerchief over my nose just as I stepped into the office," Joe replied. "The only thing I can figure is that they didn't both have time to get away after knocking you out, so one of them hid in the office. It was just my bad luck that I walked in on him."

Frank and Brandi admitted that Joe's explanation was the most probable explanation for the day's events. "I wonder if the guys have had any luck looking for Sexton and Colder," Frank said. "We haven't heard from them since they left. I'll go out to the waiting room and call them, since we're not allowed to use cell phones in here."

"Order me a pizza while you're at it," Joe told him.

Frank agreed and stepped to the open door of the room. He was about to step out when he froze. He stepped back and eased the door shut. He locked it and turned back to face Joe and Brandi, a look of concern etched on his handsome features.

"What's wrong?" Brandi demanded.

"Sexton, Colder, and several other men in suits are coming down the hall," was his shocking reply.

Brandi turned pale and reached towards the holster on her thigh. Her hand stopped halfway to its destination and she said, "Oh no! Our guns are at the desk!"

At that moment the gathered siblings heard a small noise and the flimsy lock on the room door flew to pieces. Edward Sexton stepped through the doorway holding a smoking automatic with a silencer on it. He was followed by Joshua Colder. "Well, well," Sexton said. "The gang's all here. We can kill two birds with one stone, Joshua, or rather, three Hardys with three bullets." The Hardys glanced at each other. They would never be able to overpower the two rogue agents! Even if they managed to do so, the other men outside the door would surely kill them. Their situation looked hopeless!

"What was your purpose in all of this?" Frank suddenly asked, trying to stall for time. "If you're going to kill us, at least tell us why."

"And tell us what you've been doing with our sister for the last twenty-three years," Joe demanded.

"Oh no," Sexton replied. "I can tell that you are trying to stall me, but I won't fall for it." He pointed his gun at Frank's head and his finger tightened on the trigger!


	13. Chapter 13

Frank braced himself for the bullet he felt sure was going to slam into him at any second. Suddenly, Sexton gave a cry of pain as his hand was pierced by a knife that flew out of nowhere. His gun clattered to the floor as the knife was followed by Chet charging into the room with the growl of an enraged grizzly. He hit Sexton across the jaw with a powerful punch as Biff simultaneously hit Colder with a perfect flying tackle. As Colder struggled to get up, Biff delivered a tremendous blow to his jaw with a solid fist. The fight was over so quickly that Frank and Joe did not have a chance to assist their two friends.

"You guys were just in time!" Frank gasped.

"I wanted a shot at that Sexton character," Joe complained as he looked at the now unconscious Sexton.

Brandi grinned mischievously and said, "I'm glad you didn't have a chance, Joe. Nobody here wants to see you out of bed in that hospital gown. We don't need to see that show."

The gathered friends laughed at her comment while Joe blushed. "So how did you guys know that we needed help?" Frank asked Biff and Chet.

"Well," Chet drawled. "It's like this, Tony and I finally found Sexton's hotel. We thought we were out of luck, though, because the clerk told us that Sexton had just checked out. We returned to the car and were getting ready to go back to your apartment when we spotted Sexton and Colder and their goons leaving the hotel in a black van. We followed them for a ways and then discovered that they were on their way here. We figured they were up to no good, so we called Biff and Phil and told them to meet us here."

Chet paused for a breath and Frank asked, "Speaking of their goons, what's up with them?"

"I was getting to that," Chet answered with a pained look. "Phil knocked them cold with his Taser before we even came in here. He and Tony are out guarding them right now. The rest of the story you already know. I nailed Sexton with the knife because I didn't think I could get to him in time to keep him from shooting you, Frank."

"Well, I'm glad you did," Frank said, "or I'd have one more hole that usual in my head."

"It would probably improve your looks," Joe teased.

Frank's look shot daggers in Joe's direction. "It's not too late for you," he told Joe as he picked up Edward Sexton's silenced automatic.

Joe held up his hands in mock surrender. "I give up," he conceded.

"That's better," Frank approved. "Now, I'm going to call the Gray Man. I'm sure he'll want a crack at these guys." He whipped out his cell phone and matched his actions to his words. He quickly told Arthur Gray what had happened.

"Agents are on the way," the Gray Man said. He barked orders to his subordinates and then said goodbye to Frank.

"They're on their way," Frank told the others as he put his phone back into his pocket.

"Hey," Phil called from the doorway. "What should we do with these guys? Someone's going to see them soon."

"Drag them in here," Frank ordered. "They can chill with their friends on the floor." Within a few moments, the young people had dragged Sexton's three accomplices into the hospital room.

The friends had just finished their task and had shut the door to the room when it reopened. The head nurse stepped into the room. She saw the unconscious bodies on the floor and the weapons in the youths' hands. Her mouth opened in a scream, but it died on her lips as she slumped to the floor.

"That was a close one," a voice said from behind the now unconscious nurse. The Hardy brothers broke into smiles as they recognized Agent Eric Jacobs. Agent Jacobs was a tall, lanky redhead with a friendly demeanor. He put a now empty syringe into his pocket. "She almost got us in trouble," he said. "Guess we got here in time."

"Cut the chatter," a female voice said. "That knockout drug you gave her doesn't last for very long." The Hardys grinned even more as they saw Agent Jacobs' cousin, Agent Sage Jameson. Agent Jameson had also inherited the family red hair, but instead of the six and a half foot height of her cousin, she stood at a height of five feet and one inch. The Hardys had worked with the two cousins on a previous case and had developed a liking for the two.

"You need to lighten up, Sage," Agent Jacobs told his cousin. Another difference between the two cousins was that Agent Jacobs was friendly and outgoing while his cousin was a bit brusque and sometimes a little rude.

"Yeah, Sage," Joe added with a wink at Agent Jacobs. "When are you going to let me take you to dinner?"

"When Arthur Gray grows hair," she snapped, "and it's 'Agent Jameson' to you."

Joe winced at her answer. It was common knowledge that the Gray Man was bald and always would be. "Ok, fine," Joe conceded. "Now I think you need to take a look at Sexton, _Agent Jameson_. He cut his hand."

"Ok," she answered. Agent Jameson's medical training had come in handy several times in the past. She knelt beside the unconscious ex-agent. After examining the wounded hand for a moment, she yanked the throwing knife out of the hand and casually tossed it backwards over her shoulder. The knife thudded into the wall beside Chet. "I believe that's yours," she stated as she quickly bandaged the rogue CIA agent's hand.

Chet gulped as he pulled the still quivering knife out of the wall beside his head. He washed the blood off in the sink and returned the knife to the sheath on his arm.

"Okay," Agent Jameson said after a moment, "let's wake them up."

At that moment an angry voice was heard in the hall, "What do you mean I can't go in there? I'm his doctor! What's going on here?"


	14. Chapter 14

Frank grimaced, "I almost forgot about the doctor. I'll take care of him." He stood up and made his way out the door and through the knot of Network agents that stood there. He approached the doctor who stood with his way blocked by two agents.

Upon seeing Frank, the doctor demanded, "What is going on?"

Frank led the doctor to the side of the hallway. "What I didn't tell you before, Doctor," he explained, "is that Joe and I are FBI agents."

"That's preposterous!" the doctor argued.

In response, Frank pulled a wallet from his pocket and opened it to show the doctor and FBI badge and ID card.

"Okay," the doctor agreed, "but that still doesn't tell me what is going on here."

"Well," Frank replied, "a short time ago, an attempt was made on Joe's life. We managed to foil the would-be murderers and capture them. These other agents are here to take them away."

This answer seemed to satisfy the doctor. "Is Joe all right?" he asked.

"Couldn't be better," Frank assured him. After asking a few more questions, the doctor was fully satisfied and he left to check on other patients.

Frank returned to the room and saw that all of the would-be assassins were fully conscious and in handcuffs. "That was quick," he said as the criminals were led away by Network agents. "How did you get them to wake up so fast?" he asked Agent Jacobs.

"With this," the agent answered as he showed Frank a small electronic device that he held in his hand.

"What's that?" Frank asked as he curiously examined the device.

"I'm not sure of all the technical aspects," Agent Jacobs told him, "but the basic idea is that it sends some kind of electric impulse to the brain that stimulates it enough to rouse an unconscious person to full awareness."

"That's pretty cool," Frank said as he handed the device back to Agent Jacobs. "I could use one of those in fights."

"Even better than this one is the version that some agents have implanted inside them. It senses when a quick loss of consciousness has occurred and automatically activates."

"I need one of those," Frank reiterated. "I can't even begin to count how many times the bad guy has escaped because I got hit on the head."

"Enough chit-chat," Sage Jameson interrupted them. "We need to get to headquarters. The Gray Man wants to interrogate these goons immediately."

"Okay, I'm coming," her cousin agreed. "Are you coming, Frank?"

"I'll meet you there," the elder Hardy brother told them. The agents left and Frank turned to his friends and siblings. "I have to go," he told them. "Would one of you guys mind staying here with Joe?"

"I'll stay," Biff volunteered. "I don't have any homework this weekend."

"I'm coming with you," Brandi told Frank. "I'm curious about the Network."

"Okay," Frank agreed after a moment of hesitation.

The two siblings hurried out of the hospital, claiming their guns at the front desk. They scrambled into the yellow car and pulled out into traffic. After driving for several minutes, Frank pulled into a parking garage and shut off his car.

"Is this it?" Brandi asked in surprise as she looked at the dingy garage with apprehension.

"No," Frank told her. "We're just switching cars. It's standard precaution, especially with our distinctive car. We have to be sure that no one follows us."

"I see," his sister replied. "So what are we driving now?"

"Nothing special," Frank replied nonchalantly. He walked over to a car that was parked a few stalls down from his sports car and unlocked it.

Brandi whistled appreciatively as she looked at the late model Mercedes sedan. It was a gleaming black with nearly opaque tinted windows. "Which rich client died and left you this one?" she asked her brother teasingly.

"It actually belongs to the government," Frank told her. "It's pretty standard issue for Network agents."

"I see," Brandi replied dryly.

The two siblings climbed into the car and Frank sighed in pleasure as he settled back into the luxurious leather seat. He turned the key in the ignition and smiled as the powerful engine started to purr. He put the car into gear and backed smoothly out of the parking space. He put the car into first gear and accelerated. The beautiful car drove quietly out of the parking garage.

Several minutes later Frank pulled the Mercedes to a stop by a gate that was set into the tall wall surrounding a large estate. He reached out of the window and pushed a button on the intercom.

Immediately a voice asked, "Name and entry code?'

"Agent Frank Hardy and guest," Frank replied. "My entry code is 935Q6."

After a moments pause while Frank's information was verified, the voice said, "Welcome, Elite Agent Hardy," and there was a click and the front gate swung open.

"_Elite_ Agent Hardy?" Brandi asked as they drove through the gate.

Frank looked embarrassed. "It's just part of the rank structure here," he told here.

"I see," she replied. She continued, "Pretty tight security here," she commented.

"The best," Frank agreed. He pulled the car to a stop at the end of the long driveway. The two siblings exited the car and entered the mansion through the front door. They were met at the door by several guards. One of the guards examined the identification that Frank handed him and then let him through the security blockade.

"Please step into the scanner," another guard told Brandi. She obeyed and a moment later the guard said, "Okay, you are cleared to enter, but you must leave your gun here at the desk."

"I don't think so," she replied. "The last time I did that, we all almost got killed."

The guard opened his mouth to reply when a new voice said, "Let her keep it."

"Yes, sir," the guard replied.

The newcomer said to Brandi, "I am Arthur Gray. Please follow me." The two Hardys followed the Gray Man as he walked briskly down a long hallway.

"Are the prisoners ready to be interrogated?" Frank asked the Gray Man.

"Yes," he replied. "We were just waiting for you to arrive before we began." He led them into a small room. On one side of the room was a large two-way mirror that looked out on a small interrogation room. The room contained only a table and several chairs. In the chair at one side of the table sat Edward Sexton. Opposite him sat Agents Jacobs and Jameson. The Hardys and the Gray Man sat in comfortable chairs in the observation room. "You may begin," Arthur Gray said. His words were transmitted by hidden microphone to tiny receivers in the ears of the two agents in the other room.

Agent Jacobs acknowledged the instruction with a nod in the direction of the mirror. He looked back at Edward Sexton. "What is your name?" he asked the man.

"My name is Justin Stewart," the rogue CIA agent answered.

"We know better than that," Agent Jameson snapped at him. "We know that your name is Edward Sexton, formerly of the CIA."

"That is where you are mistaken," the man replied. "I am not the _late_ Edward Sexton."


	15. Chapter 15

The people gathered in the observation room glanced at each other, puzzled. They looked back into the interrogation room just in time to see Edward Sexton a.k.a. Justin Stewart start to bite down on something in his mouth.

"Stop him!" Frank cried suddenly.

Agent Jacobs leapt across the table and grabbed for Sexton's mouth. He relaxed and sat back, shaking his head to indicate that he had been too late. The man known as Edward Stewart fell to the floor, dead.

"What just happened!" the Gray Man roared.

"I think I know," Frank said as he quickly entered the interrogation room. He knelt by the dead man's body. He placed his face by the man's mouth and sniffed. A look of distaste came over his face as he smelled a familiar smell.

"What is it?" the Gray Man asked as Frank stood up and reentered the observation room.

"It smells like bitter almonds," Frank replied.

The usually calm and collected head of the Network cursed bitterly. "I thought we got rid of them all years ago." He pointed at Frank, "You and Joe worked that case."

"I know that better than anyone," Frank told him. "In a way this is a break for us though. Now we know who we're dealing with."

"What is going on?" Brandi demanded. "What do almonds have to do with anything?"

"Assassins," Frank replied bitterly. "The Assassins are a criminal organization that we thought we had put out of business several years ago. They specialize in posing as different people. Usually they do so with advance plastic surgery designed to make them look exactly like the target. When caught, the Assassins commit suicide with a capsule hidden in a hollow tooth. The poison contained in the capsule kills them instantly. After use, the poison smells like bitter almonds." He suddenly turned to the Gray Man. "You need to check the other prisoners," he told him. "We don't want to lose them all."

"Do it," the Gray Man commanded, pointing at Agent Jacobs.

Agent Jacobs nodded as he ran out of the room. He returned a few minutes later. The occupants of the room looked at him expectantly. He shook his head. "They're dead," he told them.

"All of them?"

"Every last one," he confirmed.

"I suspected as much," Frank replied bitterly.

"Can anyone tell me how this was overlooked?" the Gray Man demanded.

"We haven't searched prisoners for suicidal drugs since the Assassins were supposedly broken up," Sage Jameson replied. "It wasn't considered relevant."

"Well, I suppose it's relevant now, isn't it?" the Gray Man remarked wryly.

"Yes, sir."

Arthur Gray addressed Frank, "You realize what this implies, don't you?" he asked him.

"Yes, I do," Frank replied. "This throws a whole new light on the case."

"You've got that right," the Gray Man agreed. "Now the question is, is this man really Edward Sexton, or not?" he asked, indicating the body on the floor.

"I suspect, sir," Frank said, "that if you run a DNA test on his blood, you will find that he is not Sexton."

"Explain the fingerprints that prove positive for Sexton," Arthur Gray countered.

"Give me a moment," Frank replied. He knelt beside the dead body and looked closely at the Assassin's hand. He produced a magnifying glass and studied the hand even closer. "Here's the answer," he stated. He handed the glass to the Gray Man. The Gray Man looked at the fingertips while Frank explained to the others. "If you look very closely at his fingers," he told them, "you can see that he has had his real fingerprints replaced. The scar tissue is almost invisible, even with the magnifying glass. Whoever performed the surgery was an expert."

"As much as it pains me to say it," the Gray Man conceded, "Frank is right." He turned to Sage. "Jameson, make sure the DNA test is conducted," he ordered.

"Yes, sir," she replied.

Arthur Gray once again addressed Frank. "What made you so readily accept this man's allegations?" he demanded.

"It seemed too easy to me," Frank told him. "It was a little convenient that all of these government agents suddenly went rogue. It makes more sense that the real agents were indeed killed and then impersonated."

"I see," the Gray Man answered.

"Mr. Gray," Brandi spoke up, "did those agents have families?"

"I believe so," he replied.

"They'll be taken care of, won't they?"

"I'll see to it that the right people are notified," he replied. "Edward Sexton deserves to have his name cleared and his star on the wall at Langley."

At that moment, several lab technicians arrived, having been summoned by Agent Jameson. They moved the body to a gurney and left with Sage Jameson closely following them.

After watching them leave, Arthur Gray leaned in close to Frank and whispered, "You didn't use fingerprints to confirm your sister's identity, did you?"

"Good question," Frank replied, "but we used a DNA match. I don't think anybody has the ability to counterfeit that. At least, not yet."

"True," the Gray Man murmured his agreement.

"Speaking of which," Frank said, "have you been able to look into Brandi's disappearance at all?"

"I hate to admit failure," the head of the Network replied, "but I have by best Agents on it, and we still can't seem to discover anything. We found her educational records."

"And?"

"Nothing. They confirm what she told us, but that's about it. We found some medical records starting at the same time she started kindergarten. So from the time she disappeared until she started school, there is no trace of her."

"What about after she started school?"

"She was an honor student. She was brilliant in all of her studies and top of her class. Her classmates say that she was pretty much a loner, so no chance of getting much useful information from them."

"Did she have a driver's license?" Frank asked.

"Yes, she did," Arthur Gray replied.

"Doesn't that require a birth certificate?" Frank countered.

"Yes, it does," was the answer. "I have agents looking into that angle as we speak, but so far they have been unable to uncover anything."

"What about a Social Security number?"

"She has one in the name of Brandi Kerry; we're still trying to determine how she got it."

Frank nodded. "There's still the matter of the Assassins," Frank replied. "What did they want with Brandi? It doesn't make any sense."

"I don't have a definite answer to that," the Gray Man told him, "but I know someone who might."

"Who's that?"

"Ask your father about the cases he was working on at that time."


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: As much as I enjoy making you all suffer *insert evil grin*, I thought I would do something crazy and go ahead and post the rest of the chapters of **_**Forgotten Relations**_**.**

**Please tell me what you think about it. If you are all good little boys and girls and leave me lots of reviews, I will start posting the sequel in a couple of days…lol.**

**Enjoy!**

"My father?" Frank echoed incredulously. "You think he has something to do with this?"

"That's not what I said," Arthur Gray replied coolly. "I have heard rumors that one of the cases that your father was working on at that time may have involved the Assassins, or at least a branch of them. I don't know any of the details, though, so you will have to ask your father."

"I will," Frank muttered thoughtfully. He thanked the Gray Man and then, motioning to Brandi to follow him, he left the building.

"So tell me about the Assassins," Brandi demanded as Frank started the car.

"Well," Frank started, "that's a tall order but I'll do my best to make a very long story short. As I said before, the Assassins are a worldwide criminal organization. Their main goal is overthrowing the government of the United States. They have their fingers in all kinds of terrorist activities. They surgically create copies of important people in order to further their goals. They have copied the Gray Man before, as well as Joe's late girlfriend, Iola." As he said this, Frank stopped a moment to regain his composure before continuing. "Joe and I were involved in several cases in which the Assassins figured prominently. Every time, the leaders of the organization were out of our reach. This was the case until about two years ago. We worked on a case trying to prevent a terrorist attack on the Pentagon. In the process we managed to eliminate the Assassins, we thought. We arrested the leader and most of his head lieutenants. Most of the rest of the organization were either killed or arrested as well. Today was the first we have heard from them since." Frank ended his recitation and took a breath. "Any questions?"

"What happened to Iola?" Brandi asked sympathetically.

"She was killed in a car bomb by the Assassins," Frank told her.

"Why did the Assassins try to imitate her?"

Frank's fingers tightened on the steering wheel until his knuckles were almost white. "They tried to lead Joe and me into a trap. I only wish I could have gotten my hands on whoever was responsible for that one. Joe took it very hard when we found out that she was an impostor. They gave him false hope and then dashed it. He went through the pain of losing her all over again. He was depressed for weeks after that."

Brandi saw the look of pain on Frank's face and she gently touched his shoulder. "We'll get them this time," she assured them. "We have to if we ever want to find out what really happened."

Frank shook himself. "Okay," he said after a moment, "let's get home. It's getting late and I'm sure Joe will want us to be there bright and early in the morning to get him out of the hospital. He hates that place even more than I do."

Almost half an hour later, after changing cars again in the dilapidated parking garage, Frank finally pulled the Hardys' yellow sports car into their garage. He yawned as he opened the door for his sister. "I'm ready for bed," he told her. "It's been a long day."

"That it has," she agreed.

The two siblings entered the apartment and immediately headed to their bedrooms. Frank collapsed onto his bed fully clothed and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

The next morning Frank was awakened by his phone ringing. "Hello?" he muttered into the mouthpiece.

"When are you coming to get me?" Joe asked cheerfully.

Frank focused his eyes on the clock beside his bed. "It's only six in the morning," he complained.

"The day is wasting away," Joe said. "Besides I've wasted enough time sitting in this prison they call a hospital."

Frank had to grin at that. "We'll be there as soon as we can," he promised. "Just be patient."

"Ok, fine," Joe grumbled. "But be sure you bring me some clothes, I only have my pajamas here."

Frank agreed and ended the call. He managed to throw back the covers and swing his legs over the side of the bed. He stumbled towards the kitchen. He definitely needed some coffee. As he entered the kitchen, Brandi looked up from where she was reading the morning paper.

"Good morning," she greeted him cheerfully. When he grunted a greeting, she replied, "There's coffee ready. You look like you could use some."

Frank grunted again in agreement and poured himself a mug full of the steaming black liquid. He sat down at the table and sipped the scalding coffee. After a few sips, he could already feel the coffee taking effect. "Anything interesting in the news?" he asked.

"One thing of particular interest is the headlines," she replied. "I guess the Gray Man was true to his word. It says here that Edward Sexton and Joshua Colder were cleared of all wrongdoing. They will be having funerals for them with full honors and their families will be receiving the benefits that they deserve."

"Good," Frank replied. "I suppose that's the least the government can do for them after they've had their good names disgraced for this long."

Brandi agreed as she folded the paper and laid it back on the table. She stood up and opened the oven. She inspected the contents and then pulled out a casserole dish using a potholder. She set the dish on the table and turned off the oven.

Frank inspected the contents of the dish. "It smells delicious," he told her. "What is it?"

"It's a breakfast casserole that I learned to make on one of my many boring days at home," she told him. "It's made with eggs, sausage, cheese, and bread."

Frank cut himself a piece and took a bite. "Wonderful," he declared. "If nothing else, you'd make a great cook."

"Thank you," she replied. "Now I get first dibs on the shower," she informed him. She quickly finished her breakfast and left the kitchen. A few minutes later Frank heard the water running as she began her shower.

Frank finished his breakfast and coffee and opened the paper that Brandi had left on the table. He read the article about the cleared agents as well as several others. He finished by reading the comics and then refolded the paper and went to get ready for his shower.

Almost an hour later, Frank pulled the brothers' bright yellow GTO to a stop in the hospital parking lot. Frank and Brandi strolled into the building. Joe turned off the television as they walked into his room. "It's about time," he complained.

"What's your problem?" Brandi asked innocently. "You had your cartoons." She indicated the now-blank television.

Joe grinned sheepishly. "Do you have my clothes?" he asked Frank.

"Right here." Frank tossed a small duffel bag to his brother.

"Thanks," Joe replied as he hurried to the bathroom to change.

A short time later, Joe had been checked out and the Hardys had all piled into the sports car.

"So what has been going on while I've been stuck in there?" Joe asked, indicating the hospital with a nod of his head. "What did you learn at the interrogation?"

"You're not going to like it," Frank warned him.

"What?" Joe asked. Frank hesitated. Joe saw his hesitation. "What happened?" he demanded, his face growing serious.


	17. Chapter 17

Frank reluctantly told his brother what had happened at the interrogation.

Joe sat in stunned silence for a moment. He slammed his fist against the dash. "This time we finish them for good," he vowed through clenched teeth. "What are we waiting for?" he asked his brother. "Let's get to Bayport. We need to find out what Dad has to say about his cases."

"Okay," Frank said as he let out the breath that he had been holding. He put the car in gear and pushed down on the accelerator. The car shot forward.

A short time later, Frank stopped the car at a small municipal airport near the hospital. "I called ahead and reserved us a plane," he told his brother and sister. Both of the Hardy brothers had obtained their private, as well as commercial, pilot's licenses and often rented planes to help in their cases.

The three young people hurried into the hangar where Frank had arranged to rent a plane. He signed the appropriate papers and a short time later, the three Hardys were seated in a small four-seat Cessna 182. Frank completed his preflight checklist and started the engine on the small plane. The engine throbbed to life. After receiving clearance from the tower, Frank taxied onto the runway. He pushed the throttle all of the way in while holding the brakes. The plane shuddered as the propeller tried to pull them down the runway. Frank released the brakes and the plane shot forward. After a few moments of racing down the runway, Frank pulled back on the yoke and the plane rose smoothly into the air.

A short time later, as they approached Bayport, Frank radioed for clearance from the tower. After receiving clearance to land, Frank landed on the runway with a small bump. They taxied to the hangar where the plane was to be parked and Frank turned off the engine. Frank and Joe tied down the plane and chocked the wheels so the plane would not get moved. The three siblings entered the terminal and Frank rented a car at the rental counter. They walked out to the parking lot and Frank found their rental car. The three climbed into the small sport utility vehicle and a short time later, they drove out onto the highway. Within minutes, Frank pulled the SUV into the driveway of the Hardy home.

"Look," Joe said, "there's Dad's car. Looks like he's home."

The three climbed out of the rental car and walked up to the front door. Frank unlocked it with his key and the three entered the house.

"Dad!" Joe called. "Are you here?"

"I'm in the office!" Fenton Hardy called back.

The Hardy siblings quickly made their way to Fenton's office. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" he asked as his three children entered the room. He saw the look on their faces and he said, "I'm guessing this trip is business related and not pleasure."

"You guessed right," Frank replied wryly. "Tell us about the cases you were working on when Brandi disappeared," he asked. He continued and told Fenton everything that had taken place the day before. He ended by telling him what the Gray Man had said about his cases. "Were the Assassins involved in any of your cases?" he asked.

"You might say that," Fenton replied after a moment of thought, "but they didn't call themselves the Assassins back then. They were known as the Liberators. They considered what they were trying to do 'liberating' the American people from tyranny. When they changed their name to the Assassins, they were finally embracing what they really are, which is killers and crooks."

"So how do the Liberators fit into the case you were working on?" Joe prompted.

"I'm getting to that," Fenton replied. He continued, "I was working on a homicide case. At that time there was a huge trial going on. Several of the leaders of the Liberators had been caught and were on trial. The key witness against them was one Earl Hansher. Hansher was a low-level flunky in the Liberators. The New York Police Department was in charge of protecting him from Liberator assassins. We had it worked out perfectly. He was kept in a special apartment we had made especially for these occasions. There were no windows. The walls were reinforced with steel plates to make them bulletproof. The door was six inches of solid steel rigged with an intercom and camera system so that the occupants could be completely sure of who was at the door before they opened it. The rest of the building was completely covered with cameras and alarms as well. It was literally impossible to get into the apartment unauthorized."

"So what happened?" Frank urged.

"Hansher was killed," Fenton replied. "He was in the apartment and he was shot."

"How did he get shot?" Brandi asked. "Who did it?"

"Well, if you believe the surveillance tapes," the detective told them, "I did."

"What?" his children asked incredulously.

"According to the tapes recovered from the apartment, I was let in the front door. As soon as I was inside, I pulled out a silenced automatic and shot the two policemen and Hansher."

"Did someone doctor the tape?" Frank asked.

"No," Fenton replied, "they didn't need to. The Liberators had made a copy of me, just as the Assassins are so adept at doing. The impostor was able to convince the policemen that he was me and they let him in."

"Did the police think you did it?" Brandi asked.

"For about five seconds," Fenton replied. "But I had the best alibi in the world. At that exact moment I was on the witness stand at the trial."

"That's lucky," Frank said. "So how does Brandi fit into all of this?"

"I was put in charge of the investigation into the murders. I know I was getting close to catching those responsible for the killings when Brandi disappeared. After her disappearance, I threw myself into the investigation to keep my mind off of her. I was right on the verge of solving the murders when the chief pulled me off the case. As far as I know, the case was never pursued after that. At almost the same time, the case against the Liberators was dismissed. Shortly thereafter, I quit the police force and moved here to Bayport to become a private investigator. I thought I had put all of this behind me, until this week."

"Didn't it strike you as odd," Frank asked, "that the chief pulled you off of the murder investigation when you were so close to solving it? And that the trial was dismissed at the same time?"

"Yes," Fenton replied. "I asked him why at the time. He told me that it was taking too long and I wasn't doing very good work because my mind was elsewhere. He told me to take a vacation and try to deal with Brandi's disappearance. I had to admit my mind was elsewhere, so I didn't pursue it at the time. Supposedly the trial was dismissed for lack of evidence after the key witness's murder."

"Was there a lack of evidence?" Joe wanted to know.

"I don't think so," Fenton replied. "In my opinion, there was plenty of evidence to convict them."

"So the first order of business," Frank stated, "is to find out why the chief pulled you off of the case."

"Right," Joe agreed. "What's his name?"

"His name is Dan Fenzel," Mr. Hardy promptly replied.

"Do you have his address?"

"Yes, right here," Mr. Hardy replied as he opened a file. He pulled out a card and handed it to Frank who promptly copied the address into the small notebook where he had been taking notes.

Frank examined the address and then closed the notebook and tucked it into his pocket. "Let's go," he said. "We've got a flight to make."

The three siblings stood up and bid their father goodbye. Within a short time they were back at the Bayport airport. Frank turned in the rental car and before long, the Hardys were once again airborne.


	18. Chapter 18

The Hardys landed in New York City and, after returning the rented plane, hurried out to their car. They climbed into the car and Joe punched the former police chief's address into the onboard computer while Frank started the car. Within moments Joe had obtained driving directions to Dan Fenzel's home.

The Hardys excitement grew as they drew closer to the man's house. Were they about to solve the twenty-three year old mystery? Did the former New York City Police Chief hold the answers to some or all of their unanswered questions? Finally, after what seemed like hours, but was actually only about twenty minutes, Frank stopped the car in front of the address that their father had given them. The three young people piled out of the car and walked quickly up the front sidewalk of the new two-story house.

Frank rang the doorbell. The three Hardys waited impatiently for the door to be opened. After a few moments they could hear movement inside. They heard the door being unlocked. The door opened to reveal a man of about seventy years of age. "Are you Dan Fenzel?" Frank asked the man.

"Yes," the man answered. "Can I help you?"

"I certainly hope so," Frank replied. "My name is Frank Hardy, and this is my brother Joe and my sister Brandi. May we come in?"

The man started visibly when he heard the names. "I suppose so," the man replied nervously. He opened the door wider and allowed the siblings to enter. He led the way to his living room and motioned for them to be seated on the couch. "What can I do for you?" he asked again when they were all seated.

"Sir," Frank began, "I'm sure you remember the circumstances of our sister's disappearance twenty-three years ago?" The ex-police chief nodded. "And you remember the court case of the Liberators and the related murders?" The elderly man hesitated and then nodded. "Now I have a question for you that is of the utmost importance, and I hope you will give us an honest answer. Why did pull our father off of the murder investigation all of those years ago?"

The old police man seemed to consider something for a moment and then spoke, "I was told to," he said.

"By whom?" Joe asked eagerly.

"It was John Collins, the District Attorney at the time."

"Did he tell you why he wanted you to drop it?" Frank asked.

"I asked him, and all he would say was, 'I'd never forgive myself if something happened to her.' I don't know who 'her' was, or how she was related though. I hear that he's the same one that had the court case dismissed for lack of evidence."

"And this didn't seem strange to you?" Brandi asked incredulously.

"It did, but I knew there was something going on that he either wouldn't or couldn't tell me about, and I trusted him. I knew that Fenton and he were best friends, so I knew that he would never do anything to hurt him."

Frank snapped his fingers. "I think I may have it!" he said. "What if the Liberators kidnapped Brandi to get the case against them dropped?"

"How does that work?" Joe asked. "They never contacted Dad at all."

"No, but Dad wasn't in a position to actually drop the case. And there was nothing he could do about the trial. But if they found out that the District Attorney was his best friend, they would know that he would do what he could to avoid hurting his friend, including dropping a case so that his friend's daughter wouldn't be hurt."

"That makes sense," Brandi said.

"I agree," said Fenzel. "Fenton and John were close enough that something like that might have worked."

"We need to talk to Collins," Joe stated. "Now."

"Do you have his address?" Frank eagerly asked the elderly gentleman.

"Wait a second," Joe interrupted. "If they only wanted the case dropped, then why wouldn't they have returned Brandi when the case was dropped? Why keep her all this time?"

"If they returned me, then the case could be reopened," Brandi stated.

"Or maybe they kept her out of spite," Frank suggested.

"Could be," Fenzel put in. "Those guys were bad news. And yes, I do have Collins' address." He left the room and returned in a few moments with a leather bound address book. He read off the address to Frank, who copied it in his little notebook.

When the Hardys had all of the information that they needed, they bade the former police chief goodbye and left his home. Once back in the car, Joe once again punched the address into the computer. When the directions were displayed, Frank stomped on the accelerator and the yellow sports car tore away from the curb. The excitement in the air was thick. The Hardys could feel that they were close to discovering what had happened so many years ago!


	19. Chapter 19

"There it is!" Joe exclaimed as he pointed to a house. "That's the address that Fenzel gave us."

Frank slammed on the brakes and the yellow car came to a halt. He backed up until they were parked in front of the house belonging to John Collins. The three siblings almost tripped over themselves in their haste to climb out of the car. They hurried up to the front door of the large house.

"He's obviously been doing all right for himself," Joe muttered to Frank as he surveyed the home.

"Well, district attorneys do make a fairly decent income," Frank reminded him.

"True." The two ceased their discussion as they approached the door. Frank rang the doorbell.

The door opened a crack and a boy the age of the Hardys stuck his head out. "What do you want?" he asked.

"We're here to see Mr. Collins," Frank told him.

"What are your names?"

"I am Frank Hardy and this is my brother Joe and my sister Brandi."

The boy's eyes narrowed when he heard the names. "I'm sorry," he replied coldly, "but my father is busy."

The Hardys exchanged puzzled looks at the boy's attitude. Brandi spoke, "It's very important that we see him right away."

"I said, 'He's busy,'" the young Collins said. He began to close the door.

Just then, they heard a voice say, "It's okay. Let them in."

"But, Dad," the boy whispered, "their name is Hardy."

"It's okay, James," the voice repeated.

"Fine," James Collins replied. He opened the door for the Hardy trio to enter. Once the three were inside, he closed the door behind them and promptly disappeared up the stairs.

"Hello," the man that they now knew to be John Collins, greeted them. "What can I do for you?"

"We need to talk to you about a matter that is of the utmost importance," Frank told him.

"In that case," John Collins replied, "we should sit down." He led the way into the luxurious living room of the spacious house. Once the group was seated, he repeated his question.

"Sir," Frank began, "I'm sure you remember a court case that took place about twenty-three years ago. Several leaders of the Liberators were on trial."

John Collins did not look surprised, he only looked wary. "I remember the case," he answered carefully.

"Why did you dismiss the case?" Frank asked.

"There was a lack of evidence…," he began.

"You know that's not true," Frank cut him off. "And why did you have my father pulled off the investigation of the witness's murder?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer those questions," John Collins replied. His lips tightened.

"Why not?" Brandi asked.

His expression softened. "They'll kill her," he said. Then he muttered as if to himself, "If they haven't already."

"Kill who?" Frank persisted.

"I can't tell you," he insisted.

Suddenly, the large window in the front of the living room shattered into millions of pieces! The gathered group heard gunshots and they saw the bullets begin to tear the room to pieces.

"Get down!" Frank yelled as he dove to the floor, pulling his sister with him. "Joe! Get Collins!" he told his brother.

"I've got him!" Joe called back as he pulled John Collins to the floor.

By this time, Frank had drawn his handgun from its shoulder holster and was crawling towards the window. He motioned for Joe to get the other side. Joe nodded and pulled his gun out. He released the safety and crawled to the opposite side of the big window. Frank waited until there was a lull in the gunfire then he made eye contact with Joe and nodded. The two brothers rose to where they could see through the shattered window. They saw a late-model black sedan with several men dressed in dark clothing and ski masks firing automatic weapons out of the windows. The two brothers pointed their guns out of the windows and fired at the car. One of Joe's bullets shattered one of the windows, narrowly missing one of the car's occupants. When he realized that their gunfire was being returned, the driver of the car gunned the engine and the car sped away down the street.

"Let's go!" Frank called to Joe as he jumped to his feet and scrambled towards the door. The two brothers ran down the front walk of the Collins home and jumped into their sports car. Frank twisted the key in the ignition and almost simultaneously threw the car into gear. He pushed the accelerator to the floor and the powerful engine roared as the car leapt in pursuit of the gunmen. The black sedan holding the fleeing assassins whipped around the corner and onto the highway that ran in front of the housing development where the Collins home was located. The Hardys followed, their car almost tipping onto two wheels as the tires squealed in protest. "Call the police!" Frank ordered his brother.

"Right," Joe replied. He quickly pulled out his cell phone and dialed the emergency number for the local police station. After quickly explaining the situation to the operator, he quickly ended the call and returned the phone to his pocket. He retrieved his gun from the shoulder holster where he had placed it. He ejected the clip and checked it. Noticing that the clip was empty, Joe replaced it with a fresh magazine from his holster. He sent the slide forward to chamber a round and once again released the safety. "I'm ready," he informed Frank.

Frank nodded in return and accelerated even more. As they drew closer to the escaping gunmen, Joe leaned out of his open window and fired at the fleeing car. Several of his bullets found their mark in the trunk of the car. The driver of the fleeing car swerved back and forth wildly to avoid Joe's bullets. The chase neared a busy intersection. The gunmen sped through the red light. Frank was about to follow when a large tractor and trailer drove through the intersection on the cross street. Frank slammed on his brakes and the yellow GTO squealed to a stop just short of the semi trailer. After the trailer had passed, Frank turned on the siren and flashing lights on the yellow car and drove in the direction that the black sedan had gone.

"Do you see it?" Frank asked Joe.

"No," Joe replied in frustration.

Frank drove down empty street staring carefully down every cross streets, but it was no use. The black sedan was nowhere to be found. Frank slammed his fist against the steering wheel. "So close," he moaned.

"Don't worry," Joe said through gritted teeth, "we'll get them sooner or later."

"Hopefully sooner than later," Frank replied wryly. He sighed, "We'd better get back and see if Collins is willing to tell us anything now."

"Yeah," Joe agreed. "He's obviously hiding something."

"That's definitely true. If it wasn't obvious before, it's painfully so now."

The two brothers drove quickly back to the house. "Oh no!" Frank exclaimed as they approached the house.

"What?" Joe demanded

"Look," was his older brother's reply as he pointed to the house. Both brothers could now clearly see the flashing lights of the ambulance that was parked in front of the Collins house.


	20. Chapter 20

Frank quickly stopped the car in front of the house and the two brothers jumped out of the car. They sprinted up the front walk and burst through the front door.

"What's wrong?" Frank demanded as they entered the living room. They saw the paramedics attending to Brandi's arm. "Are you okay?" Frank asked as he approached his sister.

"I'm fine," she replied. She winced as a paramedic tightened a bandage around her arm. "It's just a scratch."

"Are you sure?" Frank asked, concerned.

"Quite."

"Where's Collins?" Frank countered.

She motioned silently to the other side of the room. Frank turned and saw the paramedics wheeling a gurney of the room. His blood chilled as he saw the sheet covering the face of the figure on the gurney.

"He caught one in the chest," Brandi informed him. "He didn't last very long."

"We were so close!" Frank exclaimed. "I just know that he was the key to the whole thing, but now he's gone!"

"It's not quite a waste," Brandi replied. She handed Frank a thick envelope.

"What's this?" he wanted to know.

"His last action in this world was to retrieve that envelope from that table over there." She indicated a table by where Collins had been sitting earlier. "He whispered that he was sorry and then he collapsed as he handed that envelope to me."

"What's in it?" Joe wanted to know.

"I'm not sure," Brandi told him, "but I bet it's important."

Frank nodded in agreement and pushed the envelope into the pocket of his jacket. "We'll take a look at this later," he decided.

At that moment the Hardy siblings heard sirens as several police cars pulled up in front of the house. The police officers poured out of their cars with their guns drawn.

"Now the fun begins," Joe muttered to his siblings. Frank grimaced at the veracity of the statement.

Several police officers stormed through the front door. One, seeing the Hardy's handguns, aimed his gun at the brothers. "Freeze!" he ordered.

The Hardys carefully laid their guns on the floor and raised their hands in the air. "I can explain," Frank calmly said. "You have the wrong guys here. We're FBI agents."

"Show me your ID," the policeman said. As Frank reached for his pocket, the officer added, "Slowly."

Frank pulled out the wallet containing his FBI badge and identification card and flipped it open. The policeman took the wallet from his outstretched hand and examined it carefully.

The officer reholstered his gun. "They're all right," he told his comrades as he handed the wallet back to Frank. Frank pocketed the wallet. The two Hardy brothers retriever their guns and holstered them.

"So what happened here, Agent Hardy?" the policeman, who's nametag identified him as Officer O'Connor addressed Frank as he surveyed the remains of the Collins' living room.

"We wish we knew," Frank replied wryly. He told the officers about what had happened, leaving out the details of the case and the envelope that John Collins had given Brandi before he died.

Officer O'Connor whistled when Frank had finished his recitation. "That's something else," he said. "You didn't expect this at all?" Frank shook his head. "We have the forensic team on their way," the policeman told the Hardys. "I doubt they'll find much, but it's worth a shot."

At that moment an engine was heard outside the house. The gathered group looked at the front window and saw a large panel truck with the words "Police" and "Forensics" screaming in capital letters from the side. Several uniformed police officers emerged from the vehicle, carrying their equipment.

As the forensic investigators entered the house, Frank and Joe smiled. They recognized the "forensics team" as a team of Network Agents. The Gray Man was still keeping tabs on them. The team set about photographing and collecting empty cartridge casings and the slugs that were embedded in the walls.

"Well," Frank said, "it looks like things are under control here. We need to be moving on."

"I just thought of something," Brandi spoke up. "Where's James Collins?"

The Hardys looked at each other, then they ran for the stairs. They threw open the first door at the top of the stairs and were rewarded by the sight of James Collins with his arms protectively around a woman that they assumed was Mrs. Collins.

"He's dead, isn't he?" Mrs. Collins asked the siblings. Her voice sounded resigned.

"Yes," Frank confirmed softly.

Mrs. Collins did not sound surprised as she asked, "Did he give you the envelope?"

"Yes," Brandi also spoke softly.

"Then you have what you came for," the widow told them. "Please go."

The Hardys backed out of the room and Frank quietly shut the door. They silently made their way down the stairs and out of the house.

"I'm guessing Mrs. Collins was expecting that," Joe said as the three siblings climbed into the car.

"She definitely knows about the whole situation," Frank agreed.

"Let's get back to the apartment," Brandi urged. "I want to see what's in that envelope."

"Sounds like a plan," Frank said as he started the car.

The three Hardys managed to make it back to the apartment in record time. They hurried into the building. Frank carefully locked the door to their apartment as his two siblings waited impatiently.

Finally the three young people were seated in the living room. Frank tore open the envelope and dumped the contents on the coffee table.

The Hardys gasped in astonishment at what they saw before them.


	21. Chapter 21

"It looks like you nailed it, Frank," Joe said,

"I didn't really think that my theory was possible," Frank replied.

Spread out on the coffee table in front of them were dozens of letters mixed with photographs. Even without picking them up, the Hardys could tell that the pictures were of Brandi throughout different stages of her life.

Brandi lifted several of the photos. "My school pictures," she told them.

Frank picked up some of the letters. "Listen to this," he said after skimming them. "This one says, 'If you value the life of your friend's daughter, you will continue to keep silent. If you tell anyone what you know, the Hardys will never have their daughter back. All they will have is her head in a box.'" He threw the letter back on the table.

"That's awful!" Brandi exclaimed.

"Why didn't Collins recognize Brandi?" Joe wondered. "I mean, he's seen enough pictures of her."

Frank shuffled through the pictures. After a moment he said, "There doesn't appear to be any pictures from recent years." He compared Brandi's face to the most recent pictures. "She's changed a lot since the last picture," he said. "I almost wouldn't recognize her myself."

Brandi took the pictures and studied them herself. "You're right," she said. "The most recent one is my senior picture from high school."

Frank examined the letters. "The most recent letter," he told them, "is dated last week."

"That throws an interesting twist in the puzzle," Joe said. "We know why she was kidnapped and we know basically who did it, but specifically who did it? And who keeps sending the letters? Sexton and Colder are dead, and I don't think that they were the brains. I might think that it was Matson, but he's been dead for a lot longer than a week."

"Let's think this out logically," Frank said. "What do we know?"

"We know that whoever is doing this is probably someone close to the family," Brandi stated.

"How do you figure that?" Joe asked.

"Think about it," Brandi replied. "How could someone unknown to your family sneak into your house and make off with your kid and you not even hear anything?"

"Good point," Frank approved. "Most babies would make a fuss if a stranger picked them up."

"Also, whoever is behind this knows about Dad's relationships," Joe mused. "They knew just who to pressure."

"Also true," Frank agreed. "So who are we looking for?"

"Someone that was close enough to the family that I was familiar with him," Brandi summed up. "Also someone smart, this scheme wasn't thought up by your average thug."

"I think it's safe to say it wasn't Collins," Joe said wryly.

"But it had to be someone close enough to Collins to know if he spilled the beans," Brandi pointed out.

"So someone who was close to both Dad and Collins," Frank mused. "There can't be too many."

"I think it's about time to give Dad a call," Joe said. "He can probably help us."

"I agree," Frank said as he pulled out his phone. He swiftly dialed his father's number.

"Hi, Frank," his father answered on the second ring.

"Hi, Dad," Frank greeted the private investigator. He quickly told his father what had happened since they had last talked. He ended his recitation by asking, "Who can you think of that would be in a position to kidnap Brandi and keep an eye on John Collins?"

"Let me think for a minute," Fenton Hardy said as he racked his brain. "There are some officers that I was on the force with, for starters."

"What are their names?" Frank asked, his pencil poised above his notepad.

"Let's see. There was Tony Forrester and Sam Badger. Um, George Hankins and Fred Oliver. Wait. Scratch that. Fred Oliver was killed in duty five years ago."

"How sure are you of that?" Frank asked.

"I was at the funeral," Mr. Hardy replied. "It was open casket."

"No chance it was an Assassin posing as Oliver?"

"I think they would have seen that in the autopsy."

"True," Frank drew a line through Oliver's name on the pad. "Anyone else?"

"Well, there's Dan Fenzel of course."

"The police chief?" Frank asked in surprise.

"Yes," Fenton affirmed. "The three of us were pretty inseparable once upon a time."

Frank scribbled the name in large letters at the top of his list. "How come you didn't tell us this before?" Frank admonished.

"I didn't know Collins was involved before," Mr. Hardy reminded his son.

"You're right," Frank agreed sheepishly. "Are there any others that you can think of?"

"Not right now. There are some of your mother's lady friends, but I hardly think they're capable of something like this."

Frank thought of some of his mother's friends and had to agree. Frank exchanged a few more sentences with his father and then ended the call. He looked at Joe and Brandi. "Dad and Collins were good friends with Fenzel," he announced.

"We heard," Joe told him.

"This creates some interesting possibilities," Brandi mused.

"I say we lock him up right now!" Joe exclaimed.

"You know we can't do that without any evidence," Frank reminded his younger brother.

"I know," Joe moaned, "but I'm sure Fenzel is behind this. I had a hunch that he knew more than he was telling us when we talked to him earlier."

"But why would he send us to Collins?" Brandi pointed out. "By doing that he helped us."

"Not really," Joe argued. "He didn't have anything to lose by giving us that information and by appearing to help us, he throws suspicion off of himself."

"And don't forget the shooters," Frank spoke up. "Were they gunning for Collins or us? If they were after us, the only way they could have known that we were at the Collins house…"

"Is if Fenzel told them," Joe finished for him.

The three siblings looked at each other in shock. "Wow," Brandi said.

"I think we have a solid theory," Frank said.

"So what do we do know?" Brandi asked. "It's not like we can charge into his house and ransack it."

"No," Frank agreed. "But we can follow him to see where he leads us."

"What are we waiting for?" Joe said eagerly. "Let's go!"

"Hang on there," Frank said with a grin. "Let's not run off half cocked." He thought for a moment. "We'll need to use a different car," he said. "He'd see the GTO a mile away."

"Let's take the Network's Benz," Joe said. "Now that we know that the Assassins are involved, this counts as a Network case."

"That's true," Frank agreed. He quickly scribbled a list of equipment on the pad he carried. "Here's what we need," he said as he tore the page out of the pad and handed it to Joe. "You get this stuff together and we'll get ready to go."


	22. Chapter 22

An hour later found the three Hardys piling into their yellow sports car. Had anyone seen them, they would not have recognized them. The siblings were dressed in dark clothing, complete with black stocking caps. Their faces were painted black to blend into the growing darkness. Each young person carried a handgun strapped to their leg. On the opposite leg they had large combat knives. The handles of boot knives could be seen protruding from the top of their combat boots. In addition to that arsenal, each of them also carried government-issued M-4 assault rifles slung across their backs. Pouches full of extra ammunition circling their wastes completed the ensemble. Joe and Frank also carried large black backpacks.

They drove in grim silence to the dingy parking garage where the black Mercedes was kept. After making sure that they had not been followed, Frank parked the GTO. "Let's go," he said as he turned off the car. He took another quick look around and opened the car door. The Hardys quickly exited the sports car and entered the Mercedes. Frank started the car and drove carefully out of the garage. Seeing nobody on the street, he drove quickly away.

Within a short time, the Hardys found themselves approaching the house where Dan Fenzel lived. Frank drove slowly past while Joe and Brandi studied the building. Frank stopped the car a block down the street and turned off the lights.

"I saw a light on in one of the ground floor rooms," Brandi said.

"I'll check it out," Joe offered.

"Do it," Frank agreed. Joe pulled three radios out of the backpack that he carried and passed them out. He clipped the radio to his belt and attached the microphone to his collar. He placed the ear piece in its place. Frank and Brandi copied his actions. After they had all turned on their radios, Joe clicked the transmit button to test the connection. Frank and Brandi both gave him the thumbs up to indicate that they had heard the click.

"You want to take care of the dome light?" Joe asked Frank. "We don't want to warn him that I'm coming."

Frank bent over for a moment. "Got it," he said as he sat back up. He showed them the fuse that he pulled out.

Joe nodded and opened the car door. He unslung his M-4 and melted into the darkness, his rifle ready.

"What now?" Brandi asked when he was gone.

"Now we wait," Frank said.

"You don't think Fenzel will catch him, do you?"

"Not by himself," Frank said. "I think that Joe can tackle a seventy year old man by himself."

"What if he has help?"

"I didn't see any other cars at his house," Frank replied. "Besides I think Joe can take care of himself."

Just then Joe's voice was heard in their ears. "I'm outside the window," he told them.

"What do you see?" Frank asked.

"It's his study," Joe answered. "He's looking through some files."

"Can you see what's in them?" Brandi asked eagerly.

"No," Joe replied. "Now the phone's ringing."

"Can you hear what he's saying?"

"Not quite," Joe said after a moment's pause, "but he's pretty angry." There was another pause and then, "He's putting the files into a safe. It looks like he's getting ready to leave." The two Hardys listening in the car suddenly heard a sharp intake of breath.

"What is it?" Frank asked quickly.

"He's packing," Joe said. "He just put on a shoulder holster."

"What's he carrying?" Frank asked.

"It looks like a Desert Eagle," Joe told him.

"If that's the case, he must not be as feeble as he looks," Frank mused. "Those things have plenty of recoil."

"He's got his coat on now," Joe continued his narrative. Another pause and then Joe said, "He's pulling out of the garage. He's in a green Jaguar, coming your way."

"I see him," Frank replied as he saw the headlights approaching their position. Frank and Brandi quickly ducked down in the car as Dan Fenzel's car came close. When the car had passed them, they sat up and watched Fenzel's car proceed down the street.

"We're going after him," Frank told Joe.

"Go for it," Joe agreed. "I want to get a closer look at the inside of the house."

"Be careful," Frank advised.

"You too," Joe replied. Then, "Joe out." This was followed by silence.

Just then Fenzel's Jaguar turned the corner two blocks ahead of where Frank and Brandi were parked. "Here we go," Frank said. He turned on his lights and put the car into gear. He took off in the direction that Fenzel had taken. In just a few moments, he turned the corner that Fenzel had also turned a very short time previous.

"There he is," Brandi said. She pointed to the green car, now several blocks ahead as it picked up speed.

Frank nodded, his concentration on following the car ahead. Fenzel turned another corner. Frank flipped a switch and turned the corner after his quarry.

"What switch was that?" Brandi asked.

"I just turned on the fog lights," Frank replied. "Now if Fenzel looks back, he'll see what looks like a different car."

Brandi nodded, impressed. The Jaguar turned again. Frank flipped two more switches and also made the turn.

In answer to Brandi's questioning look, Frank said, "I turned off the fog lights and changed the headlights from round to square." They continued this way for several more miles. Finally the two Hardys saw the Jaguar's brake lights flash.

"He getting ready to stop," Frank said. The car pulled into the parking lot of an abandoned department store. Frank drove slowly past as they watched to see what Fenzel's next move would be. They saw the Jaguar drive behind the building.

"It doesn't look like there's an outlet back there," Brandi commented.

"I think you're right," Frank agreed. He continued until they were out of sight if the store. He parked the car on the street and turned off the engine. The two siblings climbed out of the car and Frank locked the doors.

"This doesn't look like the best part of town," Brandi said in a low voice to Frank.

"What was your first clue?" Frank muttered, "the fact that all of the houses look condemned or that we're about to be jumped?"

"What?"

Frank motioned to several teenagers approaching them. The teens were trying to look casual, but only succeeded in looking suspicious. The teens were now very close. The Hardys could see the lone street light from down the street glinting off knife blades in the hands of the teens.

"I wouldn't suggest it, gentlemen," Frank said loudly as he unslung the M-4 from his back.

For the first time, the teenagers saw how heavily armed their prey was. The Hardys heard several of the teens mutter a hasty "sorry" and then they scampered away.

The Hardy siblings crept across several backyards as they approached the abandoned store. Through a then outcropping of trees, the Hardys could see the back of the store. Brandi elbowed Frank and pointed. Frank looked where she was pointing and saw Dan Fenzel's Jaguar parked beside a door in the rear of the building. Frank smiled. He motioned for Brandi to stay put. She nodded that she understood.

Frank carefully approached the old store. Seeing a window in the wall, Frank crept in that direction. He slung his assault rifle over his back as he stood on tiptoes to see in the building. Frank was concentrating so hard on being quiet that he failed to see the man exiting the building.

Suddenly Frank felt a gun in the middle of his back. "Step back very slowly," a voice ordered.

Frank obeyed. "Drop slowly to your knees," the orders continued. Frank complied. The assault rifle was taken off of his back. His captor frisked him and removed his other weapons also. He was ordered to put his hands behind his back and they were securely handcuffed. As Frank was yanked to his feet, he finally caught a glimpse of his captor. There was nothing remarkable about him. He was an average height with average colored hair. There was nothing average about the Desert Eagle he held in his hand, however.

"So the Desert Eagle seems to be the weapon of choice for Assassins," Frank commented out loud.

"Shut up," the man ordered as he shoved Frank towards the open door.

As Frank entered the building, he saw Dan Fenzel standing with crossed arms. All doubts of his guilt were dispelled.

"Ah, Mr. Hardy," Fenzel said, "welcome. We were expecting you."

Frank maintained a stony silence.

"Did you honestly think that we would not have security cameras watching for intruders?" Fenzel sneered. "We've been watching you for several minutes. But please, Mr. Hardy, tell me how you found us? I must know."

"I'm surprised you don't," Frank shot back. "After all, I followed you here."

Fenzel's smirk disappeared. "Throw him in with his brother!" he yelled.


	23. Chapter 23

Several of the Assassins grabbed Frank and propelled him down a long hallway. Frank glanced into several of the open doors that he was hurried past and was surprised by what he saw. Although on the outside, the building was rundown, the inside had the appearance of a modern office building. One of the Assassins unlocked a heavy door. The men still holding Frank shoved him and he stumbled into the room. The door was slammed and locked behind him.

Frank stood for a moment while his eyes adjusted to the dark. He saw a dark shape against the opposite wall.

"They got you too, huh?" the shape said and Frank recognized Joe's voice.

"Yeah," Frank replied as he sat beside his brother. "I wasn't watching my back. You?"

"I disabled the alarm system at Fenzel's house," Joe told him, "but I didn't know that he also had a camera setup."

"Ah," Frank said, "I see."

"Any chance of us breaking out of here?" Frank asked his brother.

"Not really," Joe said. "I already looked around. The walls and floors are solid concrete with no windows, of course."

"Of course."

"The only entrance," Joe continued, "is the door that we came through."

"And that is made of six inch steel," Frank finished for him.

"That's about it," Joe agreed. "What about Brandi?"

"I don't know," Frank replied. "She was hiding in the trees back of the building. I don't know why she didn't warn me over the radio."

"Do you think they got her too?" Joe inquired.

"I don't think so," Frank said wryly. "I'm pretty sure I would have heard about it from Fenzel if they had."

"Good point," Joe agreed. "Maybe she went for help," he added hopefully.

"Let's hope so," Frank agreed.

The two brothers sat in silence for several minutes. "What do you think they plan on doing with us?" Joe asked, breaking the silence.

"Probably kill us and toss us in the Atlantic Ocean," Frank replied easily.

"Most likely," Joe said.

Frank was about to speak again when the heavy steel door began to open. The brothers threw their hands up to shield their eyes from the sudden light streaming in. In the open door they saw Fenzel. Behind him they saw several Assassins with Brandi between them. Fenzel's face showed a smile of self satisfaction.

"Oh," Frank said nonchalantly, "there's Brandi."

Fenzel's smile changed to a look of puzzlement. "You don't act surprised," he snapped.

"Why should we be?" Frank replied. "You caught us. Also, I figured that as many cameras as you had around here, you probably had a few bugs in here too."

"You're too smart for your own good," Fenzel sneered. He motioned to his henchmen and they shoved Brandi into the room. "Enjoy your last few hours together," the ex-police chief said. He gave an evil laugh as the two Assassins with him closed the heavy door.

As soon as the door was shut, Brandi's brave façade crumbled. "We're all going to die!" she wailed. She slumped dejectedly down beside her two brothers.

"I would be completely sure about that," Frank replied mysteriously.

"Why not," she demanded. "We're locked in a concrete box with no way too escape, no guns, and no help!"

"I'm just saying that things aren't always as bad as they seem," Frank told her. Then he suddenly said, "Quick! Be quiet!" He listened for a moment and then said, "Wait for it."

"Wha…?" Brandi started.

"Wait for it," Frank interrupted, the satisfaction in his voice evident. Another moment and then Frank urgently ordered, "Duck! Now!"

A moment later, the small room was rocked by a tremendous explosion!


	24. Chapter 24

The heavy steel door was peeled back as if it were paper. The Hardys coughed as smoke and dust filled their lungs.

"A little bit of overkill, don't you think, Eric?" Frank called out between coughs.

"Maybe," Agent Jacobs replied as he stepped over some debris, "but that was a pretty thick door."

"And what took you so long?" Frank continued his good-natured ribbing as he helped his sister to her feet.

"I think you know the answer to that one," the redhead replied easily. "Nice work on having them capture Brandi, by the way."

"What just happened here?" Brandi asked, thoroughly perplexed. Then Agent Jacobs' words hit home. "What do you mean, 'having them capture Brandi'?" she shrilled as she glared at Frank.

Frank chuckled uneasily. "Well," he told her, "each Network agent had a 'panic button' built into their watch. When I was captured, I managed to push the button. When I did, it activated a tracking device and an alarm at Network headquarters. I knew that they would scramble a strike team immediately. However, I also knew that the tracking device wouldn't work through this thick concrete, so the Network could probably only pinpoint the building, but not the room we were in."

"He also knew," Agent Jacobs continued for him, "that we wouldn't attack the building until we knew exactly where Frank and Joe were being held."

"Yeah," Joe put in, "they didn't want to hurt us."

"Actually," Jacobs corrected him, "we didn't want to destroy anything important that you could tell us. Anyway, Frank somehow let your location slip to the Assassins so that they could capture you. We tracked your body heat with our infrared scanners when they brought you to this room so that we knew where they were holding you all."

"'And the rest,'" Joe said, "as they say, 'is history.'"

"So basically you used me?" Brandi summed up.

"Basically," Frank agreed. "It's not like you can complain," he added hurriedly. "After all, you didn't warn me when that thug was sneaking up on me."

"I tried!" Brandi protested, "but the battery on my radio died!"

Frank glared at Joe who grinned sheepishly. "You were supposed to charge them," he reprimanded.

"I forgot," Joe replied.

Before Frank could say more, another voice cut into the conversation. "Are you just about done?" Sage Jameson asked as she made her way through the hole where the door had been, "or are you going to swap 'bad date' stories?"

"Why, Sage," Joe replied innocently, "I didn't think you knew anything about that. I mean it's not like you've ever had a date." He barely dodged the small piece of concrete that she threw at him. The others in the room chuckled as her face turned scarlet.

"Knock it off," she scowled. "Anyway," she changed the subject, "the Gray Man wants to see you." She strolled quickly out of the room. The rest of the group, still snickering, followed her. She led the way down a maze of halls. Everywhere that they went, Network agents were standing guard, leading prisoners, or searching through the rooms. Eventually, she led the way into an office that they instantly knew belonged to Fenzel.

Sitting behind the immense desk was Arthur Gray. "Congratulations," he said as they entered. "You have caused the fall of this branch of the Assassins."

"You mean there are more?" Joe asked.

"According to the files and documents that we have recovered so far, this installation is only a 'drop in the bucket' so to speak," the Gray Man replied.

"Recovered?" Frank asked.

"Yes," the Gray Man said. "Unfortunately, when we began our attack, the Assassins began destroying their paper and computer files. Fortunately we were able to stop them before they had completed the task."

His narrative was stopped as another Network agent entered the room. The man walked up to Arthur Gray and whispered something in his ear as he handed him a manila envelope. The Gray Man raised his eyebrows and then nodded. The agent left the room as the Gray Man pulled out the contents of the envelope. He glanced at them and returned them to the envelope.

"One of our agents found this fallen down behind a file drawer," the Gray Man said slowly. He handed the envelope to Joe.

Joe had a puzzled look on his face as he removed the contents. He took one look at what he had in his hands and he began to shake. His face turned white and he dropped a pile of photographs on the floor. He slumped into a chair, still shaking.

Brandi bent down and retrieved the pictures. She looked through them and turned to Frank with a puzzled look. "What are these?" she asked.

Frank took the pictures and looked through them. They were pictures of a girl by herself, the girl walking with Joe, the girl hugging Joe, and the same beautiful, dark haired girl kissing Joe. "They look like," Frank's tone was very serious, "surveillance photos. This girl is Joe's girlfriend, Iola Morton."

"Look at the dates at the bottom," Joe's voice was also shaking.

Frank did so and his face became a shade paler as he said, "These pictures were taken throughout the week before Iola was killed, almost three years ago."

Brandi looked at the date that Frank indicated. She looked again. "But that's impossible," she said.

"No," Joe said. "It's obvious that the car bomb was meant for her." He slammed his fist on the desk. "The Assassin purposefully killed her." The others could see the rage in his eyes.

"That's impossible," Brandi repeated. As all eyes turned to her she continued, "I saw this girl nearly a year after this date!"

TO BE CONTINUED…

**A/N: I hope you enjoyed this story and I hope you will stay tuned for the sequel, **_**Forgotten Enemies**_**.**

**And with that, I command you to review! :-D**


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